Who You Callin' Butch?
by Ramarama
Summary: Riddick considered himself pretty wise in the ways of the world. But when Imam leaves him in charge of Jack for a week, he comes up against challenges he never thought he'd face. What do you mean, it's that time of the month?
1. In Fair Verona

A/N: All right, let's get this show started. This randomly sprang up after watching TCR – my friend told me that everyone died except Kyra. Thank you Melissa, really. Pitch Black freaked the hell out of me (try watching it in the dark with no one else home and a cat rustling around in the back garden) but I liked the dynamic between Riddick and Jack. This fic takes place in the time between Riddick, Imam, and Jack's escape from the planet, and Riddick's departure. I have kind of a preoccupation with father-figures, seeing as mine is rather defective, so here's Riddick's turn. Oh, I've been having some formatting issues with so we'll see how odd this looks. Sorry in advance!

DISCLAIMER: Roses are red, violets are blue, me no own, so you no sue. Rated for violence and potty-mouths.

------

"Richard."

A softly accented voice broke through Riddick's thoughts, and he looked up. There was only one person who called him that – well at least one person who was still living. "Yeah?"

Imam stepped into the room. "I…need to ask you a favor. I have to leave New Mecca for a short time. There is a conference for our faith on Zeerop 9, and I wish to attend. I will be gone only for a few days, but you will need to look after the child."

Riddick blinked, and leaned back in his chair. "Zeerop 9?" he said. "When do you leave?"

The holy man sighed. "Tomorrow. I know it is sudden, and you do not wish to be burdened with her, but this is very important to me, and I hope that perhaps you could do this, only for a little while? I would owe you – you could cash in that debt at any time you wish. I just feel the need to reaffirm my faith, after…after what happened…"

Riddick was silent, but an expression that looked almost like guilt flashed over his face. "This conference thing is that important?" At Imam's emphatic nod, Riddick sighed. "Then I'll do it. You go to your conference, and I'll keep an eye on the kid."

"I am truly sorry," Imam broke it, "but thank you very much – I will not be gone more than a week. Thank you, Richard!"

With a groan, the convict got to his feet and stretched. "Imam," he said absently. "Whose house are we living in?"

"Mine…" the confused man answered.

"And who buys the food?"

"…I do."

"Then why would you owe me? I'm the one who owes you, holy man. You want to settle our debts? You can go to Zeerop for the next couple months. So go take your holiday, and I'll take care of Jack."

Imam smiled, and made a sort of nodding bow. "Thank you then, Richard. I will go and pack."

Riddick nodded back. "You do that."

When Imam had left, Riddick turned back to the pile of papers in front of him. He had never figured himself for a businessman, but here he was, reviewing his investments and various cash flows.

He had never had much money on him, but he had boltholes with safes, and a few deposits here and there across the galaxy, which he added to, from time to time. So he was sitting here, trying to remember where all he had hidden the money, and how much he had in each place.

It was true that he and Jack had mostly been living off the kindness of Imam – Jack had no money at all, and Riddick had none with him – mercs tended to take that kind of stuff when they greased you. And now that things had calmed down and they had gotten established, Riddick still couldn't exactly go get a normal job. There weren't a lot of people in the galaxy who looked like him, and he didn't want mercs or the police coming after him so soon. He wasn't ready yet.

He tried to avoid going out a lot during daylight hours, and kept to less populated areas. And even then, he went hooded and stuck to shadows – always waiting for someone to recognize him.

It was time to face it. Riddick was helpless, forced into constant hiding. It was left to Imam to assume the normal duties like picking Jack up from school, buying food, and supporting their odd excuse for a family. Riddick only worked a few dangerous jobs here and there – murders, robberies, kidnappings. Never often – he didn't want to draw attention. So it was basically Imam who brought home the 'bacon'.

Well, not anymore. Riddick had decided to consolidate almost everything he had stashed away over the years, and give it to Imam to help cover living expenses and such. He just had to remember it all.

A back corner of his mind was worrying away at the idea of watching Jack for a few days. But really, how hard could that be?

------

The next morning, Imam dropped Jack off at school, and Riddick met up with him on the way to the docking bay. Shouldering his bag, the holy man frowned at Riddick. "Now remember – wake up at seven, to school by eight, pick up at two-thirty, then homework and bed by ten."

Rolling his eyes – though you couldn't tell behind his goggles – Riddick gently shoved the man towards his waiting spacecraft. "Go on, we'll be fine. Enjoy your retreat thing. Get some religion. Meet a pretty woman. Get married. Make babies. Then come back. Don't worry about us."

Imam allowed a tolerant smile. "Glad I have your permission, Richard. Please do not burn the house down. And try to be nice to the child – parenting is not easy, but someone has to do it. For this week, it is you. So don't mess up, yes? I will pray to Allah, that he will watch over you."

Riddick grinned. "Get out of here, holy man."

Imam clasped Riddick's shoulder briefly, and then began his ascent to the ship. "Remember to pick her up from school today! And to wa-"

"I got it!" Riddick yelled, and turned his back on the priest, already moving back into the city.

It was only after Imam's ship had lifted off, that he realized he had no idea where Jack went to school.

------

Riddick closed himself in a public comm. booth and pulled out the index for New Mecca. There could only be so many schools, right?

"Alphonse Alimero Girls Secondary School, how may I help you?"

"I'm looking for a student who goes to your school." Riddick answered, already looking for the next school on the list.

The receptionist sighed. "This is against protocol – you can't just call up and find out who attends here."

Suppressing a snarl, Riddick growled out, "Look. I don't give a shit about your protocol. I need to pick up a girl after school, but I don't know where she goes. So either you tell me whether or not it's your school, or I show up and find out myself. You don't want that."

"Fine." The receptionist groused. "What did you say the name was?"

"I didn't." he shot back. "It's…uh, Jack."

"Jack? Look mister, not only is this an all-girls school, but you don't even know her name! How do I know you're not going to kidnap her or something?"

"If I was going to kidnap her, don't you think I'd already know where she fucking goes to school? Dammit, I'm just trying to do a favor for my friend here. Jack isn't her real name, it's her nickname. Any girls at your fucking school called Jack?"

"No."

Without even replying, Riddick hung up, and looked at the next school on the list. "Appleberth's School for Young Ladies. You have _got_ to be kidding me."

------

"Hello, Vorzel Public Secondary, how may I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for my friend's daughter's school, but I don't know her real name. She goes by Jack. Is this her school?" Riddick was getting tired of explaining himself, and he had shortened down his speech considerably.

"Jack? Ah yes, that would be Miss Kyra Fry. She's actually in the office right now, and the principal was just going to call home. Can you speak with him?"

Riddick didn't know whether to be relieved at finding Jack's school, or concerned that she was in the principal's office. But he was saved having to make that choice when a gruff voice picked up the phone. "Mr. Fry – this is Mr. Fry right? This is Principal Payworth. Sorry to disturb you, but I have a bit of a problem. I'm sure Ms. Hazel informed you that Kyra has been sent to my office again."

"Yeah." Riddick growled, glaring at a spot on the comm. booth wall. He didn't bother to disabuse the principal of his idea – that would complicate things. Riddick's mind was chugging down different tracks. Like Jack's choice for a last name. Carolyn lived on.

"Well, you see this is the third time this term that Kyra has injured a classmate, and we are in a bit of a bind. She has had several detentions, but they seem to have no effect – if this continues I will have to suspend her. In fact, I am considering doing that right now."

Jack was getting in fights at school? This was news to Riddick. Of course, he didn't exactly monitor her every move, and they didn't exactly chat about their days, so he couldn't be expected to know. But it kind of hurt that Jack hadn't confided in him. After all, he was the best fighter around – well at least in their odd little family. "Look, don't suspend her. I'll deal with her at home. I'm paying for her to be at school, and I don't want her missing any. I can guarantee you that she won't be acting up in class anymore, Mr. Pimplewob."

"It's Payworth."

"Whatever. I'll take care of J-Kyra. You just tell her she's going to be in trouble after school."

Riddick heard the principal relating this to someone, and Jack's angry voice shouting, "I told you, it wasn't my fucking fault! They j-"

"You will not use that language in my school, Miss Fry! Watch your tongue!" The principal shouted.

"Don't worry Mr. Poowave, I'll wash her mouth our with soap myself." Riddick said, allowing himself a small grin.

"It's Payworth. And you had better straighten her out, Mr Fry. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my school."

"Gotcha. Consider it done." Without waiting for the principal's reply, Riddick hung up. _Well this is an interesting development_. He was about to leave the comm. booth when he realized he had forgotten something else. With a sigh he dialed the school number again.

"Hello, Vorzel Public Secondary, how may I help you?"

"Yeah, can you tell me how to get to your school?"


	2. NYC

A/N: Another week, another chapter. I think I've fixed the formatting problem, althoughit looks a bit weird.Sorry, I can't figure out how toput a break or a line in the page to signify a scene change. Anyone got an idea how to do it? won't let me use any of my symbols - not the equals sign or thelittle wavy thing or an asterix, or anything. Grrr.

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, you rock my sox! And Lex, I hope you're reading this… If anyone wants to know, the disclaimer's in the first chapter, and the story is rated 'T' due to heavy swearing and suggested violence. There will be a chapter or so where Riddick gets very violent, but that's not for a bit, so I'll warn you when we get closer. Enjoy this chap! Cheers.

ooo

The steel and concrete gates of Vorzel Public Secondary School were a grim warning of what awaited pupils inside. Slightly rusted and covered in dust and graffiti, they were silent testament to the anger of the students and the tiny trickle of government funding that kept the school open. That funding went to more important things that the upkeep of the gates and general cleanliness. It went to alarm systems and bulletproof glass in the windows.

Riddick stared up at these gates, wondering what possessed Imam to send Jack to this place. Even to his eyes, it didn't look like a place you wanted to send your kids. It looked like a federal penitentiary. The building was dull and squat, devoid of any ornamentation or vegetation, save for a bit of moss behind the twisted pole that had once been a basketball hoop. Barely anyone still knew how to play basketball, but the hoop had other, more creative uses now.

Just then a harsh clanging echoed across the quad, and Riddick very nearly broke and ran right there. Certainly he made it a few crouched steps before his common sense got a hold of him. None of the other parents were fleeing. They hadn't even noticed his aborted escape attempt. Instead, their bored gazes rested on the steady file of uniformed kids issuing from the battered double doors of the school.

Realizing it wasn't an alarm, Riddick straightened and watched as the kids formed up in a series of rows, presided over by a few harsh-looking teachers. One of the parents stepped forward and called out, "Stephanie Kristoffsen!"

A small blonde girl in the plain gray uniform of the school stepped out of one of the far lines and walked forward. The teacher nearest her row followed, a clipboard in hand. Riddick watched in fascination as Stephanie's mother signed her out on the clipboard, then led the girl quickly away.

The group of parents and children slowly dwindled, Riddick felt comfortable enough to slip into the queue behind a rather wide woman with frizzy ginger hair. Carefully, he tugged at the hood of his battered sweatshirt so it covered most of his head and shadowed his face. After the ginger-haired lady had dragged 'Joseph Severn' away, it was Riddick's turn.

"Kyra Fry." He called out – not as loud as the ginger lady had bawled, but just enough to carry over to a line towards his right. A figure straightened from the mass and jogged over to the gate.

The uniform of the school was traditional – skirt, jumper, kneesocks – all in stone gray. Jack wore hers with battered boots and a ragged sweatshirt not unlike Riddick's own. Paired with the barely inch-long hair sprouting from her scalp and the tails of her white shirt peeking out from under her jumper, she looked like bad news. But the smile barely masked on her face belied the tough exterior, and she twitched with contained energy.

"Ri-Rick!" she called out – catching herself carefully.

Riddick flashed her a grin – knowing she couldn't see a wink behind his goggles. "Yeah, I'm Rick Fry, her brother."

The teacher in charge of the clipboard peered over her bifocals. "Where's the nice black chap who usually picks her up?"

Riddick frowned. "He's at a conference off planet, so I'll be picking J-Kyra up for a few days." When the bifocaled teacher didn't look convinced, he added, "I've already talked to Principal Peewimple."

"It's Payworth." The teacher corrected absently. "All right, I just need you to sign here that you're responsible for her from now until you sign her in tomorrow morning."

Riddick quickly scribbled off an improvised signature. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Did you know that Kyra got in another fight today? That's the –"

"I know." Riddick placed a heavy hand on the back of Jack's neck. "Believe me, it's going to be dealt with." Tightening his fingers until Jack squirmed, he propelled her out the gates.

When they were out of sight around the corner, Riddick released her. Jack stumbled away from his grip, rubbing her neck and shifting her grimy messenger back to her other shoulder. "Jesus, Riddick! I didn't do it, okay? I tried to tell _them_ –" she jabbed a finger in the direction of the school, "but they didn't believe me. I swear I'm not lying though – those guys really did jump me. The knife wasn't mine either, the short guy had it –"

"Wait." Riddick held up a hand. "Are you telling me you got jumped by a bunch of guys and one of them had a knife?" He frowned when he noticed a plaster across the bridge of her nose – if that was from a knife, it was to close to her face for his comfort.

Jack sighed desperately. "Look, I know it sounds like I made it up, but I didn't. There really were four of them and they-"

"Four guys?" Riddick asked. "Why are you in this school?"

"I swear I…wait, you mean you _believe_ me?"

Riddick allowed himself a small grin. "You think I'd take the word of those dumb shits over yours? Jack, you underestimate yourself. If you say you were jumped by four guys with knives, then you were. If it was pigs with wings, I'd believe you over a thousand scientists telling me differently. Rabid mushrooms, and I'd get my vaccinations. I was just bullshitting back there Jack, I figured if they thought you would get it worse at home, they'd leave off punishing you at school."

Jack reddened slightly and scuffed one boot in the dust. "Yeah. I should have thought of that."

Riddick grinned and thumped her on the back. "Well that's why I'm the teacher and you're the pupil, right?"

For a brief second, Jack grinned back at him, but then her face morphed into another, older but still with short hair. Carolyn stared back at him from Jack's eyes, and Riddick's heart constricted. She smiled, but then her expression changed to accusing, and then she was Johns, saying "You were going to abandon her weren't you? Abandon her to those creatures. And now when you have to leave her so the mercs or the police don't get you, you can't. You _won't_. You're going to be the death of her yet, Richard B. Riddick. You'll be the death –"

"Riddick?" Jack's worried voice broke into the tirade of his thoughts. "You cool?"

For a second he stood still, then pulled up his hood again. "Yeah. Hey, you wanna…er, get some ice cream?"

ooo

Jack and Riddick took a table in the ice cream parlor – the waiter seated them in the far back corner behind a marble statue and a tasseled curtain. Jack wasn't sure if it was because the waiter wanted their grungy selves as far away from the normal populace as possible, or if Riddick had asked for them to be seated somewhere he could hide. Speaking of the man, he was sitting to her right – back to the wall, as always – with his hood pulled all the way up, and arms tensely crossed over his chest. He looked about as comfortable in the spindly gilded chair as a little boy in a nursing home.

Come to think of it, she didn't feel too excited either. Ice cream was okay – the synthetic powdered stuff they served in shops like this tasted like cotton candy mixed with paste, though it was edible – but she knew where she belonged, and it wasn't here. Just look at her and Riddick, hidden away from the 'decent' customers, slouching warily in their dark sweatshirts and dusty boots. They would look more natural in a back alley somewhere, or behind bars – but in a dainty ice cream parlor? The walls were pink, for pete's sake!

But it was a chance to spend some time with Riddick, and Jack was willing to put up with fancy-schmancy families and crystal chandeliers for that. After their escape from The Planet (as she termed it – none of the survivors had really felt like finding out any more than they already knew), Jack had thought things would be different between her and Riddick. But it had been painfully awkward – he was dealing with the loss of Carolyn in his own way, as Jack had in hers. There were years, and oceans of empty space between them – not to mention a foot or so in height. Riddick spent a lot of time in his room, and went out most nights – Jack had almost felt grateful when school had started.

_Almost._ She hadn't thought of any repercussions when she had chopped her hair off. She hadn't even considered wearing the shiny patent leather shoes the other girls wore. She hadn't remembered that Jack was a boy's name. Well, this had all come back to her _real_ quickly when she stepped through those gates.

She didn't fit anywhere in this pleasant life Imam had constructed for her. She was like Riddick, she needed to roam, she needed danger, she needed to hide from society. And here they were, looking like fools in a prissy little ice cream parlor. But Riddick must like ice cream, and she wanted to stay with him. So she would sit here, and not complain. She would enjoy this. She would even smile. Ice cream wasn't so bad. Really.

ooo

Riddick shifted again, struggling not to tell the waiter where exactly he could shove his raised eyebrows and heated sniffing. He felt like an idiot sitting on this ridiculous chair, which hardly looked like it could stand his weight. He didn't belong here. He belonged in smoky bars and dark back alleys. Not bright sparkly ice cream parlors.

But he was sure Jack would like it. He had seen an old movie on a vid player once, where some bald rich guy had taken a short-haired girl and a pretty lady to a fancy ice cream parlor. They had all been smiling and having a good old time. Of course, they had also been dancing around and singing. It looked like something happy families did. Ate ice cream, that is – not the random singing.

But here, the bald guy and the short-haired kid were not rich, there was no pretty lady, and the waiters were snooty. Riddick wondered what the waiter would say if he asked to make a call on the house comm. and asked the waiter to bring it to him. Probably tell him to use his own fucking comm. and get out.

He was seriously regretting this idea, but Jack was smiling, and so he felt guilty. He really hadn't had a chance to talk to the girl, and this seemed like something Imam would do. Take her out somewhere and have a nice chat. All kids liked ice cream – Riddick knew that. He wondered if that taste was something you grew out of as you got older, or if the new synthetic flavors were just particularly bad. Or maybe he was just weird.

He figured that now would be a good time to talk to her about the fights she was getting in, or how school had been. Maybe he should ask if she'd met any guys at her school? But something kept him silent – nervousness probably. He didn't do kids. Didn't really like them. Avoided them mostly. Jack was different. He could relate to her. She wasn't a kid, she was…well, Jack. So why was he having trouble talking to her?

Just when the awkward silence was too much to bear, the waiter finally returned with their orders. Now Riddick had an excuse for staying silent – it was impolite to talk with your mouth full. He just had to keep shoveling this disgusting synthetic crap into his mouth, and he would be freed of his conversational duties.

Jack seemed to have adopted the same theory, and was quickly making a dent in her pichuberry ice cream. He glanced over at her, and was surprised to see her looking vaguely sick. Maybe she was eating too quickly? Maybe the ice cream was bad? Maybe it was poisoned? Yes, it must be poisoned. He should get her out of the restaurant then, and back to the house.

"Jack?" he asked, voice loud in the silence that surrounded their table, cut off from the tinkly muzak that covered the rest of the room.

She looked up, mouth full of the cold treat, and smiled sickly at him. "Mm?"

"You wanna leave?"

She was still for a moment, then delicately spit her mouthful of ice cream back into the dish. "You don't mind?"

Riddick blinked. _She thinks this is for me?_ "No. This sucks."

The look of relief on her face told him that he had made his first 'parenting' mistake. _Ice cream equals bad_. "I don't even like ice cream, really."

He grinned, and tossed a bit of money on the table – no tip. "Neither do I. Let's beat it."

She smiled back, and stuffed her hands deep into her sweatshirt pockets, mirroring his stance as they sauntered out. "So what now?"

He knew Imam would probably shoot him for it, but it couldn't be worse than ice cream, right? _Ah, to hell with it_. He deserved a drink. "You got any homework tonight?"

ooo

A/N: Well? Like? Hate?

Quick shout-out to my reviewers – TotallyRiddickObsessed, Snowgurl54, nj, Satanic Versus, and Arche De Katz. Thanks for the feedback, lads!


	3. Paradise City

A/N: Another week, another chapter! Still going to kill ff(dot)net. Does anybody know how to make decentpage breaks between paragraphs? I'm losing hope here. Keeping it short today, so enjoy!

ooo

The music blaring from the enormous speakers was so loud Riddick could swear he felt a breeze. It was some generic rock group, the volume up so loud he couldn't even discern words. The lighting was a dim flashing neon, and smoke swirled around the floor.

He raised an eyebrow at the barmaid who brought him his drink – a pint of Varcan NoseBleed. She smiled suggestively and leaned forward, ensuring him a good view down her shirt as she inquired if he needed anything else from her. Riddick said nothing, merely stared at her from behind his goggles until she realized he wasn't taking the bait and flounced off.

The bar was dark enough that he could remove said goggles – and he did so, reveling in the play of the phosphorescent colors of his vision on the gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Taking a swig of his drink, he settled back against the bar, and cocked his head to the side.

"Enjoying the view?"

Riddick glanced sideways at Jack and smiled. "Took you long enough."

The girl groaned. "Have you seen the bathrooms here? I had three hookers try to pick me up, got stuck in a queue, and almost got thrown out by a bouncer. It isn't _my_ fault!"

He laughed and half-turned to the barman. "A Treelo Starshooter for my friend." As the barman poured the drink, Jack hoisted herself up onto the stool next to him and grinned. "This is _so_ cool, Riddick!"

He smiled down at her, this girl who was so like him. The waitress sauntered over with Jack's drink, interest renewed by the revelation of his silver pupils. "I like your eyes," she purred, sweeping her eyes over Riddick's body. "And other parts…"

"Don't you have a corner somewhere to work?" Jack quipped from his side, fixing the waitress with a look of disgust.

Nearly hissing, the woman turned to Jack. "Aren't you a little young to be here? Shouldn't you be at home playing with your toys?"

Riddick swiped the drink from her tray and handed it to Jack. He turned back to the waitress and fixed her with an unblinking stare until she got uncomfortable again and hurried away. It didn't take as long this time – his silver glare was enough to make anyone feel threatened.

Jack grinned in triumph and took a swig of her drink. For a minute her face took on a rather puckered look, but then her features relaxed and she swallowed.

Riddick chuckled. "You okay there, kid?"

She treated him to a sheepish look. "I wasn't expecting it to be that strong, but it's still good!" She sipped again, and smiled in contentment. "Tastes fruity!" she exclaimed, and looked curiously at her drink. "What's it called?"

"A Treelo Starshooter. They're a good start for juniors."

She rolled her eyes. "And what are you drinking, Mr. Accomplished Drinker?"

"Varcan NoseBleed."

"A _what?_"

"That's what it's called." He glanced around and frowned, then seemed to make a decision. Rather unceremoniously, he hauled her off her stool and pulled her over to a dark corner of the room. "Look, the waitress was right. You need to look older."

About to protest, Jack recognized the look on his face, and wisely shut up. "Well you'll have to turn around and shield me from view, then."

Riddick complied, facing the room innocently, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. Jack was behind him muttering softly and shifting around. She kept elbowing him in the back – he couldn't be sure if that was on purpose or purely accidental.

Finally, she tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to find himself looking at an older Jack. Her uniform skirt had been rolled up several inches, and her white shirt was open nearly to her bra with the tails tied up to expose her stomach. She sported a devilish look that made her look wise beyond her years, in things she shouldn't know about.

He smiled. "Better."

She looked down at herself, then frowned at him. " I don't suppose you have a handkerchief…"

Raising an eyebrow, he fished out a scrap of cloth spattered with red-brown stains and handed it to her. "How attached to this are you?" she questioned, eyeing the stains uncomfortably.

"I'm not."

"Good." She quickly ripped the cloth into two pieces, and turned to the wall. Riddick could see her awkwardly doing something with the front of her shirt, but he couldn't tell what. When she turned again, he noticed _real_ quickly. She had breasts.

"Quite a wealth of talents you got there, kid."

Jack grinned. "I also to Elvis impressions – I'll be here all week!"

Riddick laughed and handed her drink safely back to her, before dragging her towards the dance floor.

ooo

The music pulsed around them, a deep thrum that reverberated rhythmically through their bodies, vibrating the blood in their veins. Jack danced like the night, dark and sultry – her hands swaying above her head, keeping her drink safe from the fray. She spun and shimmied, the fluorescent laser light flashing across her blissful face.

Riddick was beside her, a satisfied smile slipping onto his face. As he watched Jack grinding and swinging her hips to the music, he knew he was right to bring her here. _Even if she is about six years underage…_ Imam would never forgive him – if he found out – but then Imam would know what to say in an ice-cream parlor. Dark clubs, loud bars, those were Riddick's territory.

And he knew how to work them too. Soon he had a dark-haired beauty in thigh-highs and a miniskirt pressed up against him, running her hands over his chest as they gyrated to the music. A short blonde was dancing against his back, so close he could feel her breasts through the few layers of cloth that separated them.

This was life, here with the booze and the beauties and the beat. He tossed back the rest of his drink and laughed, snaking an arm around the two women moving with him. Their hips all moved together, and their hands were twined with strangers'.

Through a gap in the crowd, he was Jack bumping and grinding with a guy in a leather jacket – one of her arms was thrown around his neck behind her, and the other brought her drink to her lips. The man had his hands placed so that the tips of his fingers were just barely under the rolled waistband of her skirt.

Riddick frowned and disengaged himself from his dancing partners, giving them both an apologetic kiss, before slipping through the mob towards Jack. He grabbed her hand as it snaked through the air and tugged her towards him. She resisted at first, but then recognized him and pulled away from her man.

"Excuse me." Riddick told Jack's partner sardonically, guiding Jack away.

"What's up?" she asked. "I was having fun!"

He frowned, unsure why exactly he had dragged her away – if he was worried about her being underage, well he _had_ brought her here. "I want you to stay close to me." He finally replied. "I mean, I need to be able to keep an eye on you, so stay near."

She nodded, and grasped his free hand in hers, twirling under his arm. "Dance with me!" she yelled over the noise, already snaking around him.

He grinned and began to move as well, depositing his drink on a nearby ledge. Then he let himself go into the music, and they danced.

ooo

"I guess it's a really good thing I didn't have any homework tonight, right?"

Riddick laughed as he and Jack strolled home under the warm night. "Guess so."

"What time is it anyway?" she asked, gazing up at him from where she leaned against his arm.

"It's 1:35."

She blinked. "You're _shitting_ me."

A single eyebrow raise was all the answer she got.

"Aw, Riddick, I gotta get up in five hours and twenty five minutes!"

Now it was his turn to blink. "Oh yeah." He just couldn't seem to get the hang of this parenting thing. Time had just slipped away from him – one minute his watch had read 21:45, the next, 01:30. He had forgotten that Jack had school, and that she had to be up early. He was just glad she didn't have homework – he would have forgotten that too.

ooo

When they finally reached Imam's house, Jack was practically asleep on her feet, leaning heavily against Riddick's arm.

Propping her up against the wall, Riddick typed in the passcode for the lock and swung the door open. Turning back to Jack, he discovered that she had dozed off against the doorjamb. He grinned and swept her easily into his arms.

"We home?" She queried blearily, and then closed her eyes again before he could answer.

After carrying her up the stairs, Riddick eased open the door to her room and stepped inside. It was less messy than he expected – some papers scattered on the desk, mounds of books on the bookshelf, rumpled bedcovers, and a few articles of clothing peeking out from the drawers.

Crossing the room in two strides, he laid her gently down on the bed and drew the tangled covers up to her chin. She wakened slightly as he tugged off her boots, but found his face and smiled before drifting off. Riddick stayed beside her bed, staring down at the sleeping girl for a minute, then he smiled. "Yeah, Jack. We're home."

He tiptoed across the room, closed the door, and headed for his own bed.

ooo

"Come _on_, Jack. UP!" Riddick shouted, yanking down the covers.

Jack groaned and burrowed into the wall, throwing an arm over her face. "Fimohminz…" she muttered.

"It's 7:23!"

Once this information processed, she sat straight up, then groaned and sagged back on the bed, shielding her eyes. "Ugh…"

Riddick winced. She had only been a bit buzzed the night before – just two Starshooters – but he knew how even the slightest of hangovers could be a bitch. He leaned over and flicked off the lights. "Better?"

She started to nod, then thought better of it. "Yeah. I need a shower."

"No time! We have to leave for school in fifteen minutes!"

She looked up at him. "I. Need. A shower. _Now_."

Faced with that look, Riddick wisely got out of her way, and headed downstairs. Maybe he'd pack her lunch to save time. He'd never packed a kid's lunch before. What did they like? _Junk food_, he remembered. But he could also remember Imam lecturing them both on the benefits of vegetables.

Curious, he opened the cooling unit. Scanning the neatly printed labels nearest him, he began to get the feeling he was in too deep. _Rhubarb? What the hell is that? Looks like a vegetable. Starfruit? Might be poisonous. Sour cream? Why would you want cream that's gone sour? Pomegranates? Maple syrup? Ketchup?_

Yogurt at least he recognized, and some other fruit and veg – carrots, potatoes, apples, oranges. Where Imam had procured all this was beyond Riddick. He grabbed a few things that looked either familiar or edible, and closed the door.

As he ventured into the walk-in pantry, Riddick heard the water upstairs running – Jack would be in the shower then. But the fact was hardly comforting, as the cupboard was even more of a museum for Riddick. _Thyme? Tumeric? Lentils? Chamomile? Jello powder? Marshmallows? Worcestershire sauce? Vanilla? Tortillas?_ A bit worried, he pulled together an armful of slightly less foreign items and staggered back into the kitchen.

The water shut off upstairs, just as he stepped out. Glancing at his watch, he winced. _07:36_. They had to leave in nine minutes. Forget style then, it was all speed.

Grabbing a few ingredients, he piled them all into a thin, sack-like bread called a 'pita', and stuck it in the toast-o-matic. After locating the blender, he dumped in some fruity-looking stuff, some yogurt, and a great deal of honey, before slapping on the lid and flipping it on. A couple of veggies got washed and chucked in a plaswrap bag. As the bag sealed itself with a hiss of air, he poured a few different sauces into some small cup-like containers. Realizing Jack would want breakfast, he slapped a few things together between some white bread and threw it on a plate.

He could hear Jack clomping about in her room, cursing loudly. As an afterthought, he make himself another of his newly-christened 'breakfast sandwiches', loaded up the coffeepot, and grabbed everything from their respective devices of preparation.

He closed the kitchen door behind him at exactly 07:44, just as Jack came stumbling down the stairs, clad once again in her uniform. She stared at him, startled, for a few seconds. He tossed her the paper bag, and held out her breakfast sandwich and travel mug of coffee.

"What's this?" she asked suspiciously, peering into the bag.

"Your lunch."

"What's in it?"

He shrugged. "Some stuff. Hell if I know exactly what."

Looking decidedly worried, she pushed past him and peeked into the kitchen. "Holy shit, Riddick! What did you do? Set off a _bomb?_"

He jerked the door closed. "I haven't cleaned up yet." He growled, shoving her breakfast into her free hand, and propelling her towards the door.

Jack looked at him fearfully, but didn't protest. She shifted the 'sandwich' into one hand, and opened her school bag with her other, dumping the paper-bag lunch inside and zipping it up. She swung it onto her shoulder, took her coffee from Riddick, but paused before opening the door. "Do I have to go to school today?"

Riddick thought about it for a minute. He didn't really care, and he knew she probably felt like shit at the moment, but Imam had left express orders that unless she was sick or there had been a bomb threat, she was supposed to attend school every day.

"Are you sick?"

She sighed. "I feel sick, but I'm probably just hungover."

"Then you have to go to school."

"Dammit."

ooo

As they walked along, Jack warily tried her breakfast sandwich. After a bit of thought, she grinned. "Mmmmm! Riddick, this is good! I had no idea you were a chef."

Quirking an eyebrow at her, he sipped his coffee. "What you don't know about me could fill a book."

"A whole library, probably!" she quipped, taking another bite. "Yum. What's in it?"

Taking a bite of his own sandwich, he chewed carefully. "Something called a banana…some whipped cream…chocolate sauce…peanut butter…chips…these marshmallow things…some cinnamon…probably other stuff too."

She looked at him, torn between disbelief and disgust. "Okay, I really won't ask what's in my lunch then…The coffee is normal, right?"

He sipped his steaming brew. "It should be…I don't _remember_ putting anything in it."

Jack looked a little daunted. "That's good, I guess…Now I have art class after school today, so I don't need to be picked up until three-thirty."

Riddick nodded. Mentally he was chanting '_three-thirty, three-thirty, three-thirty…_'

ooo

After signing Jack in at school, he returned the house, and warily stepped into the kitchen. It really did look like a war zone, food strewn everywhere, and a good bit splattered in odd places. Tossing off his sweatshirt and goggles, he took a deep breath, and began to hum softly - and slightly off-tune. "Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere…"

ooo

A/N: Thanks to last chapter's wonderful reviewers – TotallyRiddickObsessed (you came back!), But He Hit Me First (love the name), SueBe, Lex (still only ½ a review…tsk tsk), nj (you came back too!), and zilly-pill. Look out for next week's installment, it's crak-a-lackin'!

Cheers,

Rama


	4. The Pizza Planet

A/N: New week, new chap. Yay for the page breaks - thank you zilly-pill! The next few chapters are definitely my favorites, so get ready for the good stuff. Not much else to say, enjoy this!

* * *

Riddick sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that had been lurking behind his eyes for the last hour. Double-checking interest on his various accounts of money was tiresome, repetitive, and incredibly boring. He had probably dozed through the last seven or eight pages – he just could not concentrate.

Leaning back in his chair, he happened to catch a glimpse of the clock. 15:28. _Shit!_ He was supposed to pick up Jack in two minutes!

He dropped the list he had been holding and was out of his chair and flying down the stairs before it even touched the desktop. Grabbing his goggles and his sweatshirt, he tore down the street, pulling them on as he ran.

Six sprinted blocks and two hitched rides on the back of hov-cabs put him at the school gates at 15:35, slightly out of breath, but still present. Jack was standing by the gate, a hunched teacher hovering behind her. He jogged the last few metres, and Jack smiled slightly at him.

"Are you responsible for Ms. Fry?" the teacher asked, peering up at him through thick glasses.

"Yeah." He grunted, signing the clipboard quickly.

"You're late."

Frowning, he looked down at the twisted woman. "I was held up at work."

"Well make sure it doesn't happen again, sir. Detention lets out a precisely 15:30."

Riddick blinked. _Detention? What happened to art class?_ But he said nothing, merely shot a glance in Jack's direction – to find her deeply involved in looking at the interesting pebbles beneath her feet.

As they walked away, Riddick crossed his arms over his chest. "Well?"

Jack looked up at him desperately. "I didn't want you to know – it's not for fighting, just for acting up in class."

"Acting up in class?"

She sighed. "I challenged the grade I got on a paper, and got into an argument with Mr. Sauer."

Riddick looked silently down at her, and she blushed. "That's what happened, I swear! I might have said a few bad words, and maybe I threw some paper, but really that's all! I'm not lying!"

He nodded, satisfied for the moment. "All right. Just tell me next time."

She nodded miserably. "Okay." Brightening a bit, she looked up. "I bet you got detention all the time when you were in school!"

Riddick said nothing, just grinned.

* * *

Jack smiled as they slid into a table in Planetary Pizza (real pies for real people). This was more like it – no snooty waiters here. In fact, the guy that walked up to their booth with a notepad and pen had a Mohawk, pierced eyebrows, and a sim-cig behind his ear. "Orright lads," he said with a smile. "What'll it be, so?"

Riddick didn't even glance at the menu. "One large pie with everything on it, a large Phader, and a boat of fries."

The tattooed waiter scribbled everything down, then turned to Jack. "And for the lady?"

She blinked and glanced at her menu. "A pepperoni pizza – small, and a small Bubbly."

He jotted her order and winked. "Ah sure, I'll have it up in a minute!"

Riddick leaned back, still wearing his hood up and his goggles, but he looked more at ease. Jack herself felt comfortable in the joint as well – the pounding music, the crazy art on the walls, the colorful people who ate around them. "Do you come here a lot?"

Riddick shrugged, but shifted to rest an elbow on the table. "It's open really late. I usually have a bite."

Jack nodded. "It's cool – I've never seen it before, though."

With a grin Riddick looked around the dimly lit restaurant. "Can you see Imam coming here?"

She had to agree she could not, but then their pizzas arrived, and any further conversation was halted for a few moments.

Eventually Riddick looked up from the sacred ritual of food-to-mouth. "You want some fries?"

Jack shook her head and took a sip of her soda. "I'm fine, thanks."

Confused, Riddick leaned forward. "Is that all you're eating?"

Looking at her pizza, she nodded. "I'm watching my weight."

This time, he actually removed his goggles to stare incredulously at her. "Watching _what_ weight?"

She sighed. "Look, if I ate as much as you, I'd balloon out like you wouldn't believe. I mean, there's got to be 3,000 kcals right there!"

Smirking fondly at his plate, he nodded. "Plenty of energy."

"Well I'm in secondary school, Riddick. I'm not running all over the galaxy trying to escape some mercs. I don't want to be fat."

Taking another bite of his pizza, Riddick chewed, then swallowed. "You wouldn't get fat from a little pizza."

"Shows what you know." She shot back, wiping grease off her fingers with a napkin. "I'd gain like ten pounds!"

"So?"

"So I'd be fat."

"Would not."

"Would too."

"Not."

"Would too! Look, do you _really_ want to get into this right now? I can't gain ten pounds. At school, you're perfect, or you're nothing."

Riddick blinked. He certainly hadn't been perfect when he was her age. He had been loud, careless, and too caught up with himself to care. He'd been on teams and stuff, even had a couple girls, and spent the lunch hour smoking sim-cigs behind the bathroom. But he hadn't been popular, hadn't wanted to be. All he needed was some booze and some music and he was happy.

But when he thought about it, hazy memories surfaced – nerds getting swirlies in the bathroom, or guys with faces like his pizza being shunted by girls – the pressure was there, but he had never felt it. He could only imagine what it must be like for Jack. She looked so different from the other kids – all those calm, mass-produced, designer children.

"So you're worried about being fat?"

She stirred her drink meditatively with her straw. "It's not so much being fat, I guess. It's just I don't need another mark against me. I've got weird hair, I dress odd, and I don't take shit. That's enough reason for people to hate me right there."

Riddick almost said he thought her hair looked cool, but figured it wouldn't help, so he held his tongue. Besides, like he was one to talk.

"It's not so bad, really. At least I don't have loads of pimples. I don't have glasses or braces, I'm not hideous. And unless I eat that pizza, I'm not fat. But I have to be careful. I'll lose what little power I have, then."

Curious now, he shoved his (now empty) plate to one side and rested both arms on the table. "Power?"

She smiled tiredly. "Yeah. I didn't really figure it out until a few weeks ago when some girls cornered me in the bathroom. Apparently, they think that their boyfriends are into me. They wanted me to back off. They don't get it that those guys just see me as a challenge. A rough girl. They don't really like me. It's just that I'm not scared of fighting – I learned a bit from you. I'm like a novelty – who can beat the she-man? Who can tame the wildcat?"

Riddick grinned. "We men always liked a challenge."

Rolling her eyes, Jack took a small bite of her pizza. "Yeah, well if you like someone, aren't you supposed to be all nice to them? Guys just hassle me – teasing, shoving, that kind of stuff."

"Is that what was going on with those guys with the knife?"

Jack sighed. "No. That was different."

Cocking an eyebrow, Riddick snagged a sip of her Bubbly, dodging her halfhearted smack. "How so?"

She snatched his cup to steal a drink of his, but found the cardboard cylinder empty. Glaring, she chucked it at his grinning face. "They're just bullies – real troublemakers. They insult Imam, and pick on the smaller kids. They're in the 5th form, so they're pretty close to the top of the school. No one really stands up to them, so they think they have power."

Riddick leaned back, linking his hands behind his head. "So what has this got to do with you? Do they pick on you?"

Jack took another drink of her soda, stared at it for a second, and then passed it to Riddick with a sigh. "On my first day, they hassled me, just because I was a new kid, and I looked weird. But it _was_ my first day, and I wanted to make friends, so I didn't defend myself, didn't talk back. It was hard, but I ignored them. I even made it _two_ more days – that's like a personal record." She smiled, but trailed off, seemingly absorbed in picking burnt bits off her pizza.

"_But_…" Riddick prompted when she didn't continue.

"But by then I had figured out that I wasn't really going to make any friends. So I said fuck it, you know? They had started insulting Imam – to his face – and I just couldn't take it. I actually instigated the first fight – jumped 'em right in the middle of the quad. I even got in a few good punches too!" she said proudly. "That is, before Mr. Feiser came and pulled us apart."

She paused again to have some more pizza. "And Imam wasn't even grateful! Besides getting a week's detention at school, he _grounded_ me on top of that! Anyway, after that it was like I had insulted their mothers or something. They were everywhere, and they were pissed. If they weren't waiting around the corner to jump me, they were jostling me in the lunch line, or spitting at me on the stairs. It just kept escalating – teachers didn't do anything except give us all detention."

Riddick finished off the last of Jack's drink. "So it got to the point where they jumped you with a knife?"

She nodded. "That was what happened yesterday. They jumped me as I was coming out of the toilet. I was lucky that Mrs. O'Sullivan came along when she did, or I might have gotten more than just a few scrapes!"

Riddick frowned. This was not something Jack should be telling him. He could already feel the beast uncoiling in him, the desire to inflict pain on these boys. Anyone who messed with Jack was messing with Riddick, and from the sounds of things, Jack was getting messed with pretty seriously. "Is that cut on your nose from them?"

She nodded. "It could have been worse, I guess – only got slashed on my arm and my hand." She held up her left hand, and indeed it had a large plaster on it. "They put some holes in my jumper though."

After a moment of silent contemplation, Riddick threw down some money on the table and stood. "Come on, let's head home. We'll see if we can remedy this fighting problem you're having."

* * *

Jack waited, tense, unmoving, trying to guess where her attacker was. She didn't dare turn, staring fixedly at the brick wall across from her – as if expecting it to suddenly turn reflective and show the scene behind her. Her ears strained for the softest sound, her hands balled into fists.

_There_. The scuff of a boot, the slightest of grunts.

Then a thick arm wrapping around her neck and jerking her off the ground. Scrambling, she kicked backwards, and grabbed at the broad forearm slowly crushing her windpipe. Breathing was hard, and she tried vainly to pull the appendage away from her throat. A pressure was building in her chest, her heartbeats fluttering like butterflies in a jar. She desperately needed to scream, needed to get free, needed to breathe.

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the arm released her, and its twin lowered her carefully to the ground again. Coughing, Jack stumbled back from her attacker, hands to her throat. "Dammit Riddick! I thought you were teaching me to stay alive, not strangling me to death!"

The convict crossed his arms and frowned. "You wouldn't have been strangled if you had brought your chin down like I told you. Do that first – it has to be instinctive. Tucking your chin will keep an assailant from being able to block your windpipe. And that can make all the difference between life and death. So learn it Jack." He strolled back behind her. "Again."

With a sigh she turned back to the wall, muttering obscenities under her breath. This time, she got her chin down, and found that Riddick was right – he couldn't choke her, not without breaking her jaw or her neck first.

"Now," Riddick's calm voice rumbled through their bodies. "Elbow."

Obligingly, she drove an elbow into his ribs, then the other – hard enough to hurt, not enough to bruise.

"Good," he murmured. "In a real fight, you'd really have to jab, but that was good enough. Groin now."

Clenching her jaw, Jack let one of her hands drop to trail along Riddick's leg. When she found the thick tendon that ran down his inner thigh, she curled her fingers around it and pinched lightly.

"Again, good." Riddick complimented. "Of course, you could also do the same thing with your attacker's balls – that would probably hurt them worse, but it might be unpleasant for you. You'll do it if you have to, though," His chuckle trembled along her back where she was pressed against the rock that was his front. "If your attacker is shorter than I am and hasn't lifted you this high off the ground, you'll be able to stomp on their instep."

He changed his grip so that she was standing on her own feet, her chin smushed into the crook of his arm. "Now, try that."

Gingerly, she raised one foot and brought it down on the buckles of one of his boots.

"Not good enough. I want you to really raise your knee, to your waist if you can manage it. Stomp down as hard as you can now – _not_ on my foot."

Suddenly angry, she brought her knee up as directed and smashed it down on the concrete floor with as much force as she could muster. Immediately, pain sparked up her leg – ankle, shin, knee.

"Now if you can get in a poke at the eyes, or hook your fingers around your assailant's cheek – actually put your fingers in their mouths and yank – you'll do a final bit of damage. But that's too dangerous for you, when you can't see what you're doing behind yourself. Too easy to get your fingers bitten off."

Fuming, Jack stood in Riddick's grip, until he finally released her. Immediately, she clamped her fingers over her knee and hobbled over to a convenient bench. "You broke my fucking knee!"

He actually had the audacity to laugh once. "Aw quit bitching about it. You're fine." When she glared at him, he grinned and knelt, picking up her leg with one hand. "Aw, de widdle giw's hoit hersef, poor baby. Does her want me to kiss it?"

Jack kicked at him, but a grin snuck onto her face. "Shut up, you big bully."

He winked at her, and got to his feet. "Now let's see that again, without me having to direct you through it."

She groaned, but held out her hand. As he pulled her upright, a thought occurred to her. "How many more times do I have to do this?"

Riddick's smirk looked downright evil. "As many times as it takes."

"As it takes to what?"

"To get it right. And then," he paused, and stroked his chin. "I'll teach you the next set of moves."

"There's _more?_" she asked in horror.

"Oh yeah. _Oh yeah…"_

_

* * *

_

A/N: Like the new chappie? Reviews pleaded for! Thanks to last week's reviewers: SueBe, But He Hit Me First, zilly-pill (again, thanks for the help), nj, and SpikeRiddick.

Cheers,

Rama


	5. Santa Monica Boulevard

A/N: So I meant to post this last night, in keeping with tradition, but the stupid server was down. I was in Dublin all day today so I couldn't post until now. Better late than never, right? Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for, one day late, but plenty long. So enjoy!

PS. Just as clarification - I referred to Jack being about four years underage in the previous chapter, and then being about fourteen in this chapter. That's because I was going by the European drinking age, which is generally eighteen. So it's really not THAT farfetched that Jack could pull it off.

PPS. The two or three lines of song in this don't belong to me, they belong to Savage Garden, and they're from the song 'To the Moon and Back', which I thought was entirely fitting.

Now. On with the show!

* * *

Since they had returned to the house to practice fighting, Jack was able to properly dress up for their outing that night. She had carefully not brought up going out, worried that Riddick had regretted it in their mad morning rush before school. But after pronouncing her self-defense repertoire 'adequate', he had told her to go get ready to go to a club. 

So here she was, stationed in front of her bathroom mirror, attempting to cover the cut on her nose with concealer. Pausing in the desperate attempt, she took a second to stare carefully at her reflection, turning back and forth in front of the mirror. She had put on make-up before of course, but this was the first time she'd applied it in at least a year. There was something about make-up that made one feel inherently beautiful.

She could hear the other shower running, and guessed that Riddick was cleaning up too. Must be a serious deal then – maybe she should wear the fake lashes?

With a groan, Jack gave up on hiding the scab and wiped the concealer off – she'd go for the 'dangerous' look tonight. Her outfit certainly supported the image. Black leather pants – fit like a second skin. Heeled boots assured that she would at least come to Riddick's shoulder. A shimmery top with no back – except for a few ultra-thin straps. She supposed it was a good thing that she had no breasts to speak of – it meant that she could wear shirts like this, ones that made a bra impossible.

Staring in the mirror like this made her realize that her hair was finally long enough to do something with. Gleefully, she dug out the tube of hair wax she been saving for this day. Reverently squeezing out a glob, she applied it carefully to her inch-long locks. After playing around with it for a while, she decided to leave her hair spiked up messily, and hooked in her insta-dryer to set the wax.

And then she spied her purple lipstick. _Hmmmm…_ she thought.

* * *

Jack was putting the finishing touches on her lipstick, when Riddick pounded on her door. "Ready?" he called. 

"Yeah, just a sec."

When she stepped into the hall, the appreciative look on Riddick's face would have made all her preparations worthwhile – had she seen it. As it was, Jack was too busy bestowing her own appreciate look on him.

He was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with sleeves that hooked over his thumbs. It had cut-outs on the shoulders, and it molded over his muscles. He looked good. _Really_ good. His usual cargo pants were held up by a chain belt, and tucked into his boots. A long black duster was draped over his shoulder. The hall light glinted off his freshly shaved scalp and ever-present goggles.

She finally jerked her mind away from Riddick appreciation, to realize he was talking to her. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, you look nice."

Jack could feel heat rising in her cheeks. "Thanks. So do you."

For a minute they stood there, awkward. Then Riddick smiled and gestured for her to precede him down the hall. "We're going to a serious club tonight. You ready for this?"

She grinned back at him. "You bet your ass I am!"

* * *

As they sat together in the hov-cab, Riddick tried to keep his gaze straight ahead. It was awkward, sitting together, silent. But he needed to keep his mouth shut – couldn't tell what was going to come out of it. 

When Jack had stepped out of her room, he hadn't recognized her. This was a woman, not a kid barely into her teens. He had only recently started thinking of her as even a member of the female species. Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he wondered how he could have ever thought any differently. She was _definitely_ female.

He would have to keep an eye on her tonight – guys at this club would be all over her. How had she even gotten these clothes? He couldn't imagine Imam buying her skin-tight leather pants, or spike-heeled boots. Hell, Imam probably didn't even know his young charge owned such garments. What the hell was she doing with them, then?

How old was Jack anyway? Thirteen, maybe fourteen? She was too young to be exposed to underground raves, too young to be out drinking, too young to be dressed like that, too young to be getting in knife fights.

But Jack _wasn't_ young, not after The Planet. She had been one of three survivors out of forty. She had seen death before her eyes, people she knew and cared about. She had seen bodies and bloodshed, seen people driven mad – seen them commit suicide. She had seen her friends being eaten alive. Jack wasn't a child by a long shot.

Riddick suddenly had that irrational desire to protect this fragile young woman. The need to destroy anything that threatened her, the need to make sure she was always happy. He wanted to wipe the haunted look from her eyes, wanted to wrap her up in blankets and cradle her like a child – make her feel safe.

Shaking his head, Riddick jerked out of his trance. _What the hell was that?_ He was freaking himself out. _Am I turning into a parent? Is this how Imam thinks?_ He rubbed a hand over hisscalpabsently._Shit, I need a drink_.

* * *

Jack leaned against the hov-cab window, face turned to the dark streets flashing past. But she didn't see them, not really. No, her entire attention was focused on her body, and the man seated next to her. Every place where their bodies touched - and due to the cramped interior of the vehicle, there were quite a few - seemed to feel extra hot, and Jack was sure that temperature matched the one in her cheeks. 

She had never been so acutely conscious of herself, of her age, her inexperience. Going out to the bar yesterday had been fun, but it was just brushing the surface. They had just gone out for a drink after school and – well, whatever Riddick did during the day. This was a serious deal now – they had actually taken _showers_ for this.

She didn't know what was going to happen, and that kind of scared her. Sure it had been a blast dancing last night, and even drinking a little, but she was new to this whole thing. She would be fine if she knew Riddick was there, but he shouldn't have to babysit her the whole night – he deserved time to relax too.

Jack sighed. She didn't know how to handle herself all alone in a room full of older men – well she knew one way to do it, but she wouldn't be able to fend off the attention it would bring. What if some guy tried to take her home? She was slight enough that he could just throw her over his shoulder and carry her off. At least Riddick had taught her some moves to escape that, but how well she could do them slightly inebriated in three-inch heels was anyone's guess.

_What if someone puts something in my drink? What if i just get drunk? What if Ilose Riddick? What if hegets drunk?_ This quickly seemed like a less and less good idea. Maybe she should just have a bit to drink first, just enough to get happy, lose her inhibitions. _Yeah, that's a good idea._ When in doubt, have a drink.

* * *

When they pulled up at the club, the driver handed her out, and Riddick immediately put a proprietary arm around her. Jack normally would have put up token fuss, but she was unsure enough now that she let him. He guided her towards a long queue of people outside a plain building, from which the pounding bass beat of music was pumping. 

She expected him to go to the end of the queue, but instead, he walked straight past it and towards the door, where a couple of bouncers were checking IDs. "Riddick," she hissed. "I don't have an ID!"

He smiled slightly. "I know."

They were getting close to the doors now. "I'm gonna get caught!" When he didn't stop, she desperately hissed, "_Riddick!_"

"Act cool." He muttered, as they walked up to the bouncers. They were big guys in stereotypical black t-shirts, and they were packing heat. Trying to look nonchalant, Jack threw back her head and smiled up at Riddick. Only he could see how tightly her jaw was clenched, and only he could feel her nails digging into his side. Quite hard, actually.

Watching the bouncers apprehensively out of the corner of her eye, Jack could imagine them standing menacingly over her and demanding ID. What excuse could she come up with? _Um, I forgot it? _

But when they noticed Riddick and Jack, both bouncers nodded, and stepped aside. Jack hid her surprise with a cool nod to the men, and then they were past.

A long flight of twisting stairs led immediately downwards, and as they descended, Jack abandoned her pretense of sophistication. "You know those guys?"

Riddick smiled mysteriously. "I know a lot of people."

She was silent for a moment as they moved further and further underground. "So you've done jobs for them."

He grinned down at her. "Sharp, kid. It was for their boss actually, but close enough."

Jack nodded. "Right."

Just then, the stairs leveled out, and they were in a small room with double doors at the other end. The music was loud enough down here that she could feel it thrumming against her chest. A chubby girl was leaning on a plain desk, and her eyes lit up when Riddick walked in – though they did dim slightly when the girl noticed Jack under his arm.

"Can I take your coats?" she asked brightly, smiling at Riddick.

He removed his arm from Jack's shoulder and shrugged out of his duster. Jack removed her jacket as well, folding it over Riddick's and handing it to the eager girl. Taking their claim ticket, Riddick led the way to the double doors.

He pulled both of them open easily, and Jack was hit with a blast of sound. Her first impression was of mass chaos – bodies jostling, music thumping, lights flashing. Tentatively, she stepped into the room. Riddick was right behind her, and one of his hands ghosted down her back to guide her through the crowd.

"You want a drink?" he yelled in her ear.

Breathing a sigh of relief she nodded. "Please!"

* * *

After leaving Jack in a relatively safe corner, Riddick shoved his way towards the bar. He needed to get a hold of himself. He hadn't known her shirt was backless – otherwise he never would have let her out of the house. 

It wasn't that he was shocked by the amount of skin she was showing – he had known girls who would consider her outfit prudish – but he wished she had worn something else. It wasn't that she didn't look good – damn did she look _good_. That was the problem.

Jack might not have the mind of a kid – or the body, come to think of it – but in years, she was. And anyone going after her would still be a paedophile. That included Riddick. He wasn't attracted to Jack – not really. Sure she looked good – _hella_ good – and sure she was exactly his type, but she was too young – she could be his little sister for pete's sake!

So he would keep his hands off, for now anyway. But that backless shirt was going to attract at lot of attention from single (and probably not so single) guys. He'd have to keep an eye on her. He felt bad – she deserved to let loose tonight, not be loomed over by big brother. But he wouldn't risk her getting hurt. So he'd stay close by, as discreetly as he could of course, but still near.

When he arrived at the bar, he had totally forgotten what he had intended to get for them. "I'll have a Bommer and a Frekkian Twist." He finally decided, and carefully made his way back to where he had stashed Jack.

But the only people in the corner were a smooching couple and a druggie with dreadlocks.

"Fuck!" he growled. He couldn't see her anywhere – strobe lights flashed everywhere, and the dark mass of bodies writhed only a few feet from him. She could literally be anywhere – the room was the size of a warehouse. "JACK!" he yelled, uselessly, because his voice was instantly swallowed in the screaming guitar of the song.

Suddenly, something thunked lightly off his head. It was a ball of paper, confused, he looked up. There was a thin catwalk stretching around the room, mostly where smokers and couples went. Jack was standing above him, waving down.

Muttering curses under his breath, he located the curling staircase, and clomped angrily up it. When he reached Jack, he stabbed her drink towards her chest. "You scared the shit out of me, you know that?"

She smiled, and took her drink. "Nice to know you care."

"Of course I care, you idiot! I nearly had a heart attack! I haven't even had a midlife crisis yet, and you're giving me heart attacks! Why the fuck are you up here?"

Jack smiled through his tirade, not looking the least bit remorseful. "That druggie down there kept asking me if I wanted to buy, and making lewd suggestions. I got a bit freaked out waiting for you by myself, soI came up here to get away from him while still being able to watch for you. I called out, but you must not have heard."

At the tale of the dread-locked druggie's exploits, Riddick's face hardened. "Well that was actually quite smart of you. I take back all my yelling. Sorry."

She grinned. "I think that's the first time you've ever apologized to me, Richard B. Riddick!"

He snorted and motioned for her to follow him down the stairs. "Don't let it go to your head."

* * *

_"Momma never loved her much, __and daddy never keeps in touch – that's why she shies away from human affection. And somewhere in a private place, she packs her bags for outer space – now she's waiting for the right kind of pilot to come..."_

The lyrics twisted over the crowd of sweating bodies, while the bass pulsed out loud enough to ruffle clothes with each boom. Neon colored drinks waved high above heads, held by hands wearing glow-bracelets or striped with fluorescent paint.

Jack moved in time with the beat, reveling in the sway of her hips and the primal call of the dance. Yes, the drink had been a good idea – she felt much more at ease now. Closing her eyes she ran one hand down her body from her neck to her hip and sipped her drink.

She and Riddick had started out dancing near each other, but quickly became separated by the crush of bodies. Every now and again she would catch a glimpse of him through the crowd – he seemed to be quite popular. Last she had seen was a fucking _queue _of girls waiting to dance with him.

Just as she was about to start feeling jealous of his wealth of partners, someone grabbed her free hand. She opened her eyes to see a tall man with a fishnet shirt and tight black pants, smiling invitingly at her while he rocked his hips to the beat.

She grinned and moved towards him, and he obligingly wrapped an arm around her waist. Jack let her free hand rest on his muscled chest – he had a six-pack, but still couldn't hold a candle to Riddick. Even dancing up close to another sexy guy, she was thinking of him. For some reason that thought annoyed her, so she focused back on her partner.

He guided his leg between hers, so that as she shimmied to the music, she was grinding against his thigh. Jack giggled – hey, what ever rocked your ship – and scooted closer to him, rolling her body up on his side.

As she sipped her drink again, and felt someone else slide up behind her – and looked back to see a guy with eyeliner and a shirt that seemed to consist of mostly holes. As she shook her hips and shoulders between them, she felt someone's hand gliding across her stomach, and a few daring fingertips danced under and over the waistband of her pants. Jack curled the arm with her drink around the fishnet guy, and reached back behind her with her other to wrap around eyeliner dude's neck.

Feeling lightheaded and giddy, she threw back her head and laughed. The night was young, sexy men surrounded her, and she had a delicious drink. But the happy feeling disappeared when the daring fingers slipped fully under her waistband. That wasn't something she knew how to stop. Suddenly she felt young, clumsy, and scared. Where was Riddick? Trying to hide her panic, she looked nonchalantly around her, searching for the familiar figure.

And there he was, dancing a few couples to her right. He had a pair of blonde twins – one on each leg, and a red-haired chick in snakeskin against his back. Looked like he was having a good time.

She hadn't realized how much the sight of him relaxed her until he glanced in her direction. Their eyes met, and she grinned. His eyes seemed more interested in her than in any of his dancing partners – molten silver drank her in. He sent her a questioning look and she jerked her head towards the fishnet guy – who happened to me the owner of the daring fingers, which were now trying to worm their way from the side of her jeans to the back – a trip made difficult by the lack of extra fabric in her pants – and rolled her eyes.

Riddick seemed to be mutely asking if she wanted him to rescue her – funny how she could understand a slight tip of his head, a raised eyebrow, and narrowed eyes – but she shook her head. She wasn't scared anymore – Riddick had her back. He nodded and winked at her – a flash of silver in the strobe light.

Jack laughed again, and grabbed the wrist of the daring fingers. After giving her partners a smooch on the cheek and a saucy wink, she shimmied out from between them and back into the mass of jostling bodies.

* * *

Riddick sighed in frustration. He didn't know which was worse – leaving his goggles on, so that he could barely see in the dark club, or taking them off and being blinded by the bright lights flashing in his face. He finally settled for half-lidding his eyes and keeping his head tilted down. 

This made it a bit hard to keep an eye on Jack, but after a while (and two-thirds of his drink) he got used to the strobe lights and lasers. And picked up something of a harem as well. Not that he minded of course, but it was hard to focus on when you had someone grinding up against you.

But nevertheless, he stayed near his young charge, changing partners when some exuberant girl wanted to head off into a corner or closer to the speakers. Soon, he began to grow tired of the women thrusting up against him, giggling, and passing him around like a slab of meat.

He watched Jack twining her body in the dancing light and began to wish he was dancing with her. Wish he was actually_dancing_, not having sex with his clothes on – like these women seemed to be attempting to do. More and more often his gaze strayed to the girl with the thin shoulders and spiky hair.

She was beautiful, this young Kyra Fry, there was no denying that. Slender and exotic, she was flirting with her body, exploring her sensuality. She shimmied and swayed, pumped her fists in the air, then ran her fingertips over her body. She knew how to move, but didn't seem aware of it. Her figure spoke of dark magic and mysterious clues, her dancing from the Zultan's palace on Araby, or the Grande Batell on Engle.

Her movements carried hints of fights in dark allies, darting desperation and tense waiting. She looked wild and dangerous one moment, but then the light would flash and she would be all angelic purity. Literally like a virgin touched for the first time. She was excitement bottled, a slither in a box, poetry in motion.

Riddick had never had any interest in the Arts – well, any besides the fighting kind – but at this moment he wished that he could paint, or make a movie, or compose music to illustrate Jack's dancing. But he couldn't, so he tried to imprint the memory in his brain, never to be forgotten, simply to be taken out and looked at after the moment was past.

When he glanced at her again, she was looking at him, and she was moving awkwardly, uncomfortable. He raised his eyebrows, asking if she was all right, and she cut her eyes to her dancing partners – a couple of guys made bold by the way she moved. Riddick could feel his blood boiling. But she winked and motioned that she'd be all right, so he let it pass.

She was growing up, that was for sure. There was no way he could avoid it. Looking at her out there, swinging through the undulating crowd in her sexy clothes and her woman's eyes, he knew that he needed to let her go. Needed to stop clinging to the tomboy he had taken a shine to on a planet with three suns, and a month long night. Because she wasn't the girl he had known – somehow, while he hadn't been watching, she had turned into this saucy young woman. And she could take care of herself.

Suddenly, he felt lonely in this room full of people. Tugging his goggles down over his eyes, he separated from his partners, and cut through the crowd. He headed for the bar in an effort to stave off the conclusion his mind had been trying not to reach all night. Jack didn't need him anymore.

* * *

Jack danced her way through the crowd, lingering a bit at each cute guy she passed. She didn't know where she was going – she was just dancing. Every now and then, someone would grab her ass, or try to cop a feel of her chest. The latter always made her laugh – there wasn't anything there to feel! Short hair and wearing pants wasn't the only things that made people think she was a boy. 

But no one here thought that tonight. No, she gathered the envious glances and lusty hints to her like mother gathering toys. She would remember this night when the fifth formers teased her, when the other girls sneered at her, when her classmates edged away. And she had Riddick to thank for this confidence boost. He had brought her here, showed her what it was to be wanted, opened her to all these people who thought she was beautiful.

As if conjured by her thought, a large hand enveloped hers, and she was pulled into a rock hard chest.

"Trying to run away?" Riddick asked, a grin playing on his face, and fluorescent colored drink in one hand.

Jack answered his smirk with one of her own. "From you? Never. You don't scare me."

A strange look darted across his face. "Really?"

Confused she shook her head. "Of course not. Why?"

He shook his head and sipped his drink, still moving unconsciously to the music.

Trying to break the solemn mood that had descended on her companion's bald head, she tugged the drink from his hand. "I want some, I'm parched!" But the first sip had her eyes watering and her nose scrunched up. "Fuck's sake, Riddick! How can you drink that?"

Taking back his drink, Riddick shrugged, then drained it in one gulp, sticking the empty glass into the hand of some unfortunate bystander.

Almost worried now, Jack reached up – thanks to her heels, she didn't have to stand on tip-toe – and pushed his goggles onto his forehead. Riddick's eyes had the strangest look in them, as if something horrible had happened and it hadn't quite sunk in yet. "What's wrong?" she asked, unconsciously clasping one of his hands to her chest.

He shrugged again, and pulled his goggles back into place with his free hand.

A tall man covered in swirly blue tattoos sashayed up to Jack and twined and arm around her waist while Riddick brooded. Smiling invitingly, the guy tugged her lightly towards him and bumped his hips against hers.

Unsure what to do, Jack glanced at Riddick. The convict was staring at the tattooed man, his face perfectly still, not a flicker of emotion seen through his goggles. But his free hand was clenched in a fist. Seeing her eyes on him, he relaxed his hand and nodded his head jerkily towards the man. "Go ahead, I'm not your keeper."

Feeling slightly hurt by that, she pulled away from Riddick, frowning. The tattooed man took that as acquiescence, and began leading her back into the fray of manic dancing. They were almost there when Jack dug in her heels, removed her hand from his grip, and trotted back to Riddick, who had been watching her departure stonily.

When he looked at her questioningly, she grinned up at him, and bumped her hip against his. "It's impolite to leave your partner, didn't you know that?"

He shoved his goggles up on his head and stared at her oddly.

With a frustrated sigh, she elaborated. "Look, I'd rather dance with you, okay? So when you've got a money card, run with it. Capiche?"

After another moment of silent staring, a smile broke out on Riddick's face, and he chuckled. Then in a moment of uncharacteristic affection, he picked her up and swung her around before setting her back on the ground.

Laughing giddily as she danced against him, Jack quipped, "I'll take that as a yes, then?"

Her only answer was a hip bump and a silver wink.

* * *

A/N: So. Reactions? You have them, yes? Tell me, my pretties! And your little dogs too.

Cheers to last chap's reviewers: Lover's Lament (glad you beat your laziness and dropped by - and don't be offended by the glasses and braces thing. I spent three years in braces and still wear contacts myself!), buecha, JaclynK (death to goons!), But He Hit Me First, Wildfire6962000, SpikeRiddick, shamrock920 (yes, that time of the month is going to be very...educational for our dear convict. We'll call it a 'crash course'. Heh heh heh.).

Thanks everyone, I heart you!


	6. Back Streets

A/N: AGHT! Sorry this wasn't out last night. Once again, my laptop decided to hate me - of course it's working fine this morning when my dad takes a look at it. Of course. So anyway, here's the next chapter, albeit several hours late.

WARNING: This is a violent chapter. If you have a problem with lots of killing - it's not THAT descriptive - don't read. Can't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

"So really, where'd you get those clothes?" Riddick asked, as they wandered home later that night.

Jack noticed that whatever that fluorescent drink was, it had made Riddick quite a bit more talkative. He had actually initiated a conversation – a first. She shrugged. "From Zeebrox."

"No shit? I pass the sign to that store all the time – never been there though."

She decided that a talkative Riddick was a good thing, and vowed to ply him with that neon drink more often. "It's kinda in the basement of this other store for like preppy people, but it's really cool."

Riddick nodded, and they walked in silence for a few seconds. Jack was glad she had brought her jacket – the cool night air caressed her cheeks, and raised goose bumps on her neck.

"Does Imam know you have those clothes?"

She looked up at Riddick in surprise, to find him smiling shrewdly down at her. "Are you kidding? Of course he doesn't. And it's going to stay that way. Got fed up in school one day and walked out of P.E. Pointless class – the girls don't want to play, and the guys are just showing off – you can't get a proper game going. Anyway, I just left – ended up shopping down there. Bought some stuff and hid it in my school bag until I could unpack it at home."

"How'd you explain your absence at school to Imam?" Riddick asked, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his long duster.

She wrapped her arms around one of his, leaning slightly on him. "I just told him someone had made a bomb threat on the school so we were let out early."

He laughed. "You're a girl after my own heart."

Even in the dark and deserted streets of New Mecca past midnight, most predators of the shadows would have left Jack and Riddick alone. They might have risked the teenage girl had she been alone, maybe even with her boyfriend. But these were no ordinary couple. Though they both were wearing coats and formal clothes, the guy's muscles rippled under his sleeves and across his shoulders, bulky enough to be seen from a distance. The guy also moved in that distinctive way that marked him as an experience fighter – perfectly balanced, perfectly measured, perfectly nonchalant.

Most denizens of the nocturnal world would leave a guy like that alone.

Most.

* * *

Riddick's first clue that they were in trouble was the unmistakable noise of a laztik being charged. The short laser clubs crackled and hummed with contained energy, and also emitted a slight heat and a bright light. The temperature raise was barely a degree – maybe two if you were holding it – and the light could be shielded, but people like Riddick never missed that kind of thing.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Riddick warned, without turning.

Jack looked up at him, puzzled, but had sense enough to keep quiet. She glanced behind her, then looked straight ahead, eyes wide. "There's seven guys back there, Riddick!" she hissed quietly.

He grinned, remembering that she'd never seen him fighting more than one-on-one. "Actually there ten of them – why don't you come on out boys? I don't know who you're hiding from…" His grin widened when three more guys stepped out in front of them. "Ten guys for two people? Wow, you guys are chickens."

"Step away from the girl, put your hands on your head, and no one will get hurt." Commanded a guy in front of them, as his laser cannon flickered to life.

Flicking a glance at Jack, Riddick chuckled. "You guys really know how to talk nasty, don't you?" But he stepped apart from Jack and slowly raised his hands.

"Ri-Rick!" hissed Jack, eyes wide.

"Just make like your boyfriend, sweetheart, and you'll both come out of this alive," advised Laser Cannon. He motioned with his head for two guys to grease them.

Riddick never actually let them touch him – he was planning to, but Jack got greased first. And they didn't grease her so much as…_grease _her.

She stiffened in disgust as they rubbed their hands up and down her legs. Her eyes were clenched shut, and her hands fisted on top of her head. She looked like she would cry. And that was not acceptable. So Riddick revised his plan.

He lunged forward, caught the nearest guy by the wrists and yanked him into a head butt, before pitching him to one side.

He didn't even stop to check positions of the other guys; he just grabbed whatever crossed his field of vision. Shortly, there were four guys on the ground, and Riddick was at Jack's side.

Standoff.

The remaining six guys had weapons, but Jack and Riddick had, well, Riddick.

Jack looked up at Riddick in awe, as he faced the other guys. Worried she would say something, he cut his eyes to her and gave his head the slightest of shakes. She raised her eyebrows and they turned their eyes back to their adversaries.

Laser Cannon was still standing, and two of the other guys had laztiks. The remaining three guys had shivs, some sort of gun, and a saw-toothed sword, respectively. Riddick blinked at the last guy, who handled the weapon with the ease of long practice. A sword? Who used a sword these days? _Apparently this guy…_.

At some unspoken signal, they all spread out and began advancing together. So they were smart. _A shame, really. _Riddick reflected. You didn't survive on the streets unless you were smart, and it looked like these guys were really survivors. Well, they would have been, had they not chosen Richard B. Riddick to mug this night.

_So actually,_ he decided, shoving Jack behind him and crouching slightly, _these guys aren't actually so smart_. He didn't have to feel bad about wasting smart street denizens. _They are an endangered species, after all._

The guys were close enough now, so he darted out and grabbed Laztik One by the handle of his weapon and snapped his wrist. Then he easily removed the short laser from the man's hand and chucked it at Laztik Two. The other guys were moving, but Riddick was too busy to care – after removing his laztik from the smoking stomach of Laztik Two, he snatched said dead guy's weapon and turned back to the fight.

Now it was just Laser Canon, Shivs, Some Gun, and Sword Boy. Riddick figured he'd take Some Gun first – he, Shivs, and Laser Canon could all attack from the distance, but Shivs probably couldn't do enough damage to kill without getting closer, and if Riddick got hit by Laser Canon, he was dead anyway. So Some Gun it was.

Stalking towards Some Gun, Riddick began twirling the laztiks, limbering up his wrists and warning Some Gun. He didn't understand why they guy hadn't fired on him before – it was only later that he found the nicks on his right arm and left shoulder where bullets had grazed him unnoticed in the heat of the fight – but didn't plan to allow the guy to start anytime soon. Weaving and zig-zagging, he sprinted (as quickly as his dodges would allow) towards his target.

Riddick's world narrowed to the thinning man wielding the semi-automatic, and he prayed to Imam's Allah that none of the other guys hit him from behind. _There._ The twitch of muscle at his elbow that signaled a trigger squeeze. Riddick dived sideways into a roll that brought him straight to his feet again. Some Gun's eyes flickered for a moment, looking somewhere behind Riddick before releasing another spray of bullets and forcing Riddick to dodge again.

Then there was a sound almost like a massive _WHOOF_, and Riddick threw himself flat on the ground. But the blast from the laser canon didn't go anywhere near him. Instead, the crackling ball of energy rolled high above him before enveloping the single streetlamp in a puff of electrical explosions.

The street was plunged into darkness.

Riddick smiled.

* * *

He immediately rolled away from where he had been lying, in case Some Gun got smart and tried to pop him in the dark. If he was lucky, none of his attackers knew about his shine job. If he wasn't, they still couldn't find him unless they had a torch, and that would light them up like a beacon (literally). But then again, they were lit up – at least to Riddick's eyes.

He could see Jack, standing near the wall of a building to his right. Laser Canon was half-bent over a few metres away, his weapon dangling from loose fingers. The fool must have attacked Jack then – bet he hadn't expected what he got. Riddick realized he was grinning like a madman, but couldn't seem to rid his face of the smile. Jack – smart girl that she was – had realized that Riddick's advantage lay in the fact that he could see in the dark. So she had used Laser Canon's weapon to take out the one light. _That's my girl_, Riddick thought proudly.

He'd better prove his worth then, since Jack had given him such a wonderful opportunity. Flicking off his laztiks, which thankfully hadn't occurred to Laser Canon, he shoved them into his duster pockets, and carefully unclipped his chain belt. Richard B. Riddick never went anywhere without some kind of weapon, and tonight was no exception. Once the length of chain was safely out, he began swinging it in large circles beside him as he paced silently up behind Some Gun. The poor fool didn't even hear him coming.

He used the chain to smack the gun from Some Gun's hand and had it wrapped around his throat before the weapon hit the ground. After snapping the idiot's neck, he sprinted to cover in an abandoned doorway as Laser Canon finally got smart and fired off a shot in Some Gun's direction. The night was lit up for a brief second as the lightning ball rolled past and blasted a hole in a wall forty metres down the street.

Then Riddick was running again, in case one of the remaining guys had seen him. Laser Canon was next – his weapon was not only the most dangerous, but if he kept lighting up the street, someone was eventually going to spot Riddick. There was no chance of police coming to investigate the broken lamp and the strange flashes of light. This was the part of town where laser canon flashes were a normal occurrence.

Laser Canon was sweating profusely, pointing his weapon every which way – as if that would help him see in the dark. At one point, he had it pointed straight at Riddick as if he could see him, but when Riddick dodged, he didn't follow, so it was just luck. The chain began to whirl again, and this time the man heard it and pointed the massive gun in Riddick's direction.

But the chain was faster – it snicked out silently and wrapped around the canon, allowing Riddick to jerk the weapon easily from its owner's hands. Out flashed the chain again, this time it wound around Laser Canon's neck and jerked him to his knees, before Riddick placed a boot on the man's chest and jerked the chain. _And_ snap _goes the neck…_

Shivs and Sword Boy had done the stupid thing and separated – each fending for himself instead of sticking together. Further proof that the planet was well rid of such stupid would-be villains.

Shivs was easily dealt with – once his hands were trapped, he had no way to defend himself. Bada bing, bada bang, bada _boom_, another twitching corpse.

Suddenly there was a muffled shriek, and the smell of fresh blood. Riddick felt his own freeze and he whirled towards the source. Jack was standing across the street from him, her hands wrapped around the thick arm trapping her middle, as a thin line of blood trickled down her neck from the sword pressed against it. She was fighting, trying to find the man's sensitive points in the dark.

"I know you're out there," called Sword Boy into the dark, kicking the back of Jack's knees so she collapsed against him. "So tell your girlfriend to quit struggling or I'll slit her throat."

Riddick was already moving towards the pair. "Jack." He warned, then abruptly changed course, so he couldn't be traced by his voice.

Sword Boy peered in the direction Riddick's voice had come from, desperately trying to see him. "Don't come any closer – if I see any movement at all, I'll cut first, ask questions later. Do you understand? Don't try anything. I want to make you a deal."

_A deal, a deal…_ They always wanted to make deals. When would they ever figure out that Richard B. Riddick only dealt in death? "So start talking." Riddick replied.

Sword Boy nodded. "All right. See, I didn't want to do this, I told Vinzo this was a bad idea – and look, I was right. I don't care about you and your chick, I didn't care about those guys. So you let me go on my way, I'll let your girlfriend go hers. Okay? A life for a life?"

"Go ahead." Called Riddick, changing position again. He was debating how best to kill Sword Boy – could he be fast enough to knock the sword away before Jack's throat was slit? Was it worth taking the chance?

Sword Boy swallowed. "So how do we do this? I'll take her with me, and then when I'm safe, I'll let her go, how 'bout that?"

"No dice." Riddick growled. "How 'bout you let her go, and I'll let you go?"

"I don't trust you – how do I know you won't just kill when once she's free?"

Riddick sighed. These guys were always so picky. "Well then how 'bout a fight, big man?"

"No way." Sword Boy retorted. "I can't see you, it would be suicide for me. I'm not stupid."

Riddick reached into his pockets and drew out the laztiks. They flickered to life with the hum and heat that normally accompanied them, and especially the light. "There. You can see me now. Let her go, and let's tango."

* * *

The manshoved Jack, and she stumbled as far away from him as she could get, eyes never leaving the pair of glowing laztiks.

It was all she could to keep herself pressed against the wall, instead of running out to stay close to Riddick. She couldn't see the other guy – the one with the sword – only every now and then the glimmer of a laztik reflecting off the steel. Her only indication of Riddick was the pair of laztiks, and a very slight outline of his hands in the darkness.

Then suddenly, the laztiks whirled, dancing in the night. They hummed through the air, and she could see flashes of the sword reflecting back. She knew the laztiks were the more powerful weapon – they could easily shear through the steel blade – but it didn't look like Riddick had gotten that chance yet.

Jack tensed, ears and eyes straining to make out the fight. The guy with the sword must be pretty good if Riddick wasn't getting any hits in. Maybe she could help out, like she did with the streetlamp. She crouched down and fished around on the ground for a weapon. It was nearly impossible in the dark, but her groping fingers finally found something lumpy. Not something. Someone. It was one of the guys from the fight – already going through rigor mortis. Gulping back the bile rising in her throat, she grimly felt around his person. There, a shiv. She got a good grip on the weapon and stood.

The fight was moving faster now -the laztiks flashing in ever-connected circles, and soft grunting signaled that the fighters were starting to strain. Creeping towards them warily, she tried to keep a focus on where the guy with the sword was. A hard job, it turned out, because he had to be close to Riddick for her to make him out. But eventually she snuck near enough to the combatants that she could see his outline - somewhat.

Whatever the man lacked in physical stature, he made up for in skill and speed. Riddick was getting close, but the man dodged away quickly, and lashed back with his own weapon – he also missed. It was a close fight, and unless she could tip the odds, whoever tired first would die.

Just as she was crouching to spring at the man with the sword, Riddick's voice cracked out. "No, Jack!"

Immediately, the sword man took advantage of Riddick's momentary distraction, and struck out. Riddick leapt backwards, and his duster swept up, momentarily shielding the combatants from her view. She heard the rasp of steel, and a stifled exclamation from Riddick. And then she smelt blood.

Covering her mouth with her free hand, she hushed her gasps, and screamed silently into her palm.

"Get back, kid." Riddick growled – at least he wasn't dead then, and the laztiks began their lazy circles again. "Get away from here."

_Like fuck!_ She wasn't leaving him – did he honestly think she would? Well if he wouldn't let her fight, perhaps she could help him fight? Riddick's unique advantage lay in his ability to see in the dark, but he had leveled the playing field by using the laztiks to illuminate himself. But now that Jack was free, there was no reason for Riddick to keep fighting fair.

Slipping silently into the darkness, she edged around the combatants – tiptoeing awkwardly in her heels. When she was close enough to Riddick, she hissed, "Lose the lights, Riddick."

She couldn't see him well enough to determine if he was startled, but a second later, his laztiks flickered out. Once again, the dark night swallowed their street.

"Hey! Hey, what the fuck are you doing!"

Jack grinned as she felt a tall body slide up next to her. She blindly held out the shiv, knowing Riddick would be able to see it. His callused hand slid over hers, and she released the knife into his easy grip.

Then he was gone, somewhere in the darkness.

"You're cheating!" yelled theother guyagain. "You can't run off without finishing the fight!"

The sickly sound of metal sliding through meat tore through the silent street, and a gurgling moan echoed off the buildings. Then,there was the muted thud of something large hitting the ground.

"There." commented Riddick blandly. "It's finished."

* * *

A/N: So that was longer than usual, I think. I didn't want to break up the fight scene though - kills the action. For anyone who didn't figure it out, laztiks are like short lightsabers. So it was a lightsaber fight in the dark. Mmmmmm.

Thanks to last week's wonderful reviewers: **shamrock920** (i wuvvles you), **Jak**, **Jamie**, **Lover's-Lament** (yay! beat that laziness down! and don't feel ashamed, i love it too. of course, i AM biased...), **FluidDegree**, **Social control** (sorry you didn't like the purple lipstick. i don't wear it myself, but thought that it kind of fit jack at that moment), **blade assassin**, **WindDancerTN** (runs off down an avenue), **Death By Teacup** (love the name), **mynee** (i'm glad you liked this so much!), and **Houser's girl**. I love you all!

Cheers,

Rama


	7. House is a Home

A/N: Hey lads – I know this is up early, but I won't be here tonight to post. So you get this approximately 12 hours early, aren't you happy? Be happy! I command you. We're edging closer and closer to chapter 10, which is as far as I've written at the moment, but from the way things look now, we'll probably get there just as school starts, so I wouldn't have time to write, even if I didn't have writer's block. Which I do. It's all planned and written out, but every time I re-write it, I lose the paper. Augh.

* * *

Riddick stood still in the darkness for a moment, listening to his heavy breathing and the soft trickling of Sword Boy's blood on the pavement. They needed to get away, he needed his injury bandaged, and he didn't want Jack here when the lights came on. But for some reason, he couldn't make himself move just yet.

"Riddick?" Jack called hesitantly – her voice shook only a tiny bit.

He looked over towards her – she was unknowingly standing mere inches away from two corpses, with her arms wrapped tight around her body. "Yeah, I'm here." He called.

She nodded. "I know. Just needed to hear you say it. Are…are you all right?"

Unable to help it, he laughed tiredly. "Yeah, Jack. I'm fine." Feeling about a million years old, he began to trudge towards her.

"But…but you got slashed when I distracted you! Shit, I'm so sorry Riddick. I didn't mean to interfere, I just wanted to help! I swear I wasn't going to do anything too stupi-"

"Jack, shut up." Riddick interrupted gruffly. "It wasn't your fault – I gave him the opportunity to hurt me, and he did. It's not bad, don't freak out on me."

"But-"

"_Jack._"

* * *

Jack blinked furiously, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over her eyelids. She was such a wimp – letting the guy with the sword sneak up on her, messing up Riddick in the fight, now babbling and crying. She heard the deliberate scuff of Riddick's boot on the pavement, and felt his presence at her back, but didn't turn. Didn't want him to see her like this.

Just as she was finally mastering her tears, he touched her hesitantly on the shoulder, and she nearly broke down. She could sense him edging around her so he could see her face, but didn't even try to hide it anymore. Just stared fixedly at the ground – or where she supposed the ground would be if she had been able to see it in the dark.

For a moment, they both stood there, silent, awkward. Then Riddick called quietly, "Jack…"

She darted forward and grabbed him fiercely around the middle, burying her face in his chest, not caring about the sweat soaking his shirt, or her smeared make-up. He stiffened at first, but then his arms wrapped hesitantly around her shoulders. And they rested there for a moment – Jack didn't cry, just trembled slightly and squeezed her eyes closed.

"You did good, Jack." Riddick murmured, stroking her neck lightly.

She shivered and turned her head further into his coat.

Then – almost reluctantly – he pulled away. "Come on, I don't want us to be here when the fuzz decides to show up."

Nodding, she let him guide her down the street – not asking what it was they had to weave around.

* * *

"Jack…" Riddick said quietly when they finally reached the next street light, several hundred metres down the street. "I'm sorry you had to see all that stuff back there. I…that's what I do. I wish you hadn't seen it, that's not anything you need to know about."

She looked up at him with those old woman's eyes. "It's not like I didn't see it on The Planet. It's not like I've never seen a dead body. It's not like I've never seen you kill someone – well not actually doing it, but I can remember what happened to Johns."

_Shit._ Riddick closed his eyes. He did _not_ need to be reminded of that, and he didn't like to think that the kid remembered it as well. "Look, Johns was…well, he deserved what he got."

"I know he wanted to kill me, Riddick. I'm not stupid."

He blinked. _She knows? Damn, that must be hard to live with._ He looked down at her face with its smeared make-up and the drying blood on her neck. "Are you okay?"

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine. You're the one who got slashed by some fucker with a sword!" She reached for his duster, but her hands froze halfway there. They were smeared with blood. She looked down at her coat – the front was soaked. Confused, she pressed her stomach, and found it still in one piece. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide and she threw open Riddick's coat.

There was a slash across his ribs running from his breastbone down across his ribs, and it was still sluggishly pumping blood. "Fuck, Riddick!" she shrieked, tearing off her coat and wadding it against the wound. "Couldn't have bothered to staunch the blood or anything, huh? Dammit, how ironic would it be if you beat all those guys and then died?"

He grinned down at her. "Hell, I don't need to worry about myself – I've got you to do it for me."

She flipped him off, but continued to flutter around him anxiously. "This is all my fault –youaren'tgonna die or something,are you?"

Riddick gently drew back from her hands, holding her coat against the slash himself. "Look, we went over this. You were just trying to help, and I let myself be distracted. I would have gotten hurt sooner or later anyway. I'll be fine – it's not deep." He folded his duster back over his front again, keeping one hand inside it to keep the pressure on the wound. As they began to walk again, Riddick slugged her lightly in the shoulder. "And besides, you more than made up for it by keeping the street dark. Can't believe I didn't think of turning off the laztiks…" he muttered.

She chuckled shakily. "Guess you're human after all."

He smiled. "_Damn_."

* * *

When Riddick stepped into the hospital waiting room, he found Jack asleep in an uncomfortable chair, a fresh white bandage across her neck. It had taken a while to get his wound stitched – the doctor on call had been dealing with some guy with a crushed foot and he had been stuck waiting in the examining room for ages.

He smiled down at Jack for a while, then realized what a fool he looked like and wiped the idiotic grin off his face, before approaching the receptionist. "Rick Northman and Kyra Fry, please."

Rick Northman was his legal alias, and as the receptionist typed in their details, she looked at him curiously. "Is Ms. Fry under eighteen?"

Riddick nodded. "Yeah, but her legal guardian is off-planet at a conference, so I'm watching her for the week."

"How are you related to Ms. Fry?" the woman asked.

He sighed. "I live with her and Abu al-Walid. He's her guardian, and I'm friends with both of them."

The receptionist typed the information obligingly into the computer. "Can I see identification and proof of residence?"

Riddick dug out his wallet – it was amazingly still in his back pocket – and handed her the necessary papers.

"And what were the causes of Ms. Fry's and your injuries?"

"Some guys tried to mug us."

The receptionist nodded. "All right, the treatment cost comes to 74.13. I'm assuming you're paying by insurance?"

"Actually, can I pay with a cred card?"

The woman actually blinked at him silently for a moment. "You want to pay? You have that much on you?"

He grinned inwardly. "Why do you think we were mugged?"

The receptionist huffed, but nodded, and processed his card quickly. "Just sign here, and here…Yes, thank you. You'll need to come in and have those stitches taken out in a week – will the 13th work for you? Around 11 o'clock? All right, I'll pencil you in. Thank you very much."

Riddick nodded and replaced his wallet before turning to Jack. He hated to wake her – it was 12:16 in the morning, and she still had school. But he couldn't carry her with stitches across his chest. Maybe he'd take her in to school late. "Jack…" he called, shaking her lightly.

Immediately she was awake. "I wasn't sleeping. Just resting my eyes – I'm wide awake!"

He grinned at her. "Yeah, whatever. Come on, we'll take a hov-cab home. I'll take you into school late so you can sleep in."

She smiled up at him. "Did I ever tell you that you're the best babysitter ever? I mean aside from the killing and the injuries and all that."

"Some recommendation." He muttered, but couldn't keep a tiny smile off his face.

* * *

After getting Jack settled in bed, Riddick headed for his room but ended up in the study, staring at the piles of notes he had accumulated. He did have a lot of money – enough to buy out Imam's whole neighborhood, with enough left over to renovate Jack's school, or pay for her tuition at one of the good boarding schools on the satellites orbiting around Helion Prime.

Now there was a thought. He didn't need much to subsist on – his money had nearly doubled because he had left it untouched in his accounts for so long that the interest was astronomical. He could easily convert all but perhaps one of his accounts to Imam and Jack, and still be living as comfortably as a convict on the run ever did.

This idea intrigued him so much that he forbore sleep to sit at the desk for another two hours, rearranging his accounts and moving funds around. When he finally turned out the light and headed for his room, he had most of his holdings ready to transfer to Imam's account the minute he had to leave.

As good as it felt to know he could help and provide for his friends, the thought of leaving them to do it weighed heavily on his shoulders. Riddick didn't fall sleep for a long time.

* * *

"Jack?" Riddick murmured, shaking her shoulder lightly. "Wake up, kid."

The girl groaned and turned to face him, before wincing and putting a hand to her neck. "Augh…"

He grinned. "Thought you might say that. It's 10:15 – figured you might want breakfast before school."

She blinked. "Yeah…breakfast." Wiping a hand over her face, she wrinkled her nose. "Just lemme get a bit cleaned up first, 'kay? I'll be down in a bit."

Riddick nodded and left her, wincing slightly on the stairs – the stitches pulled with the oddest movements. In the kitchen, he actually managed to find some food that was generally put in the breakfast category, and threw it together in a somewhat more orderly fashion than the day before. A teeny bit of pride prickled in his head – he was getting good at this cooking thing!

* * *

When Jack stumbled down the stairs – hair dripping and wearing one of Riddick's shirts – there was a bowl of museli, fruit, yogurt, with a bit of brown powder sprinkled on top waiting for her. She smiled and flopped into her seat, immediately digging in. "Wuff dif bown fuf?"

Riddick raised an eyebrow.

Glaring, she chewed for a moment, swallowed, then tried again. "I said, what's this brown stuff?"

"Wheat germ. It's good for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. How'd you sleep?"

With a shrug, Riddick set a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. "Fine."

Jack treated him to a shrewd look – raised eyebrows and all. "Right. Whatever. Slept like a log, myself."

He nodded and sipped his own tea.

After munching through her breakfast for a bit, she paused and glanced up at him leaning against the counter. He was back to his old Riddickness, calm and cool, and never up to shouldering any conversational burdens.

Despite the grisly attack, Jack had enjoyed last night – a Riddick that was willing to talk was not something to be taken for granted. _It's unfair that the only time he opens up and talks is when he's a bit buzzed_, she grumbled to herself.

This could not go on. She decided that she would bring him out of his shell and into the world of voluntary conversation, human interaction, and visible emotion.

"So do I get a home-made lunch again today from the master chef?"

He shrugged into his tea. "If you want it."

This would be harder than she thought. "Good, because whatever you made me was really good! I even shared a bit of it with Tad – he liked it too! Said that if I bring him some today, he'll give me some of his mom's triple-thick-four-layer-raspberry-lemon-orange-chocolate-fudge-and-cookie cake."

Riddick's eyebrow raised. "Tad?"

Nonchalantly, Jack took another bite of museli. "Oh, just this guy from school."

"Just _what_ guy?"

She squashed her smile before it reached her lips. "Chill, Riddick. It's not like he's my boyfriend or anything. We're not really even friends. I partnered him one day in PE, and we beat all the other teams, so he at least gives me a nod in the hall."

Riddick's eyes remained narrowed. "If he's just some guy, why were you sharing your lunches?"

A tiny snicker crept out, but she covered it in a fit of coughing. "Well Hans triple-dog-dared Tad to try a bit of my lunch – because it looked weird, you know. They expected it to be really bad, and Tad acted like it was disgusting." Seeing Riddick's frown deepening, she added, "but he came up to me later and told me that it was actually really good, and that he wanted more."

After a moment of silent glowering, he sighed. "Do you like this Tad guy?"

Jack shrugged. "He's nice enough I guess – probably about the closest thing I have to a friend." She waited until he relaxed a bit, then added as an afterthought, "He's cute too."

She had to laugh at the pissed look on Riddick's face. It really was too funny. "Just kidding. Well, not about Tad being cute, but he's so far out of my league it doesn't make a difference."

Riddick set his now empty mug down, and began moving around the kitchen, gathering ingredients for another of his concoctions. "Whadda you mean, out of your league?"

Jack sighed, and buried her face in her own coffee for a moment. "I mean," she mumbled through the steaming liquid, "that he's smart and popular and cute, and I'm, well…not."

With a snort, Riddick sent her a deliberate raised eyebrow. "Don't be so modest, Jack. When you've got it, flaunt it."

She shook her head. "No, I mean, look at me. I'm like the antithesis of good little popular girls. Remember how we were talking about why I can't gain any weight? Well I've got so many of those marks against me that they've made a wall between me and all the people like Tad. They don't like scruffy tomboy troublemakers. If I gained that weight from the pizza, I doubt Tad would even acknowledge me in the halls."

Riddick threw together a mixture of odd ingredients and popped it between some bread and into the toaster. "He sounds like a _great_ guy."

Jack tipped her head wryly. "That's more than I get from most kids, even now." She scraped the last remnants of her breakfast from the bowl and carried her dishes to the sink. "I'll be ready to go in a few minutes, just let me get dressed."

He nodded, not looking up from her lunch preparations. When he heard her footsteps retreat into the hall, he shook his head. "Fucking glad I'm not in school anymore…"

* * *

A/N: All right, what did everyone think? I tried to be vague about the money thing, since they don't mention it in the movies (that I remember).

And a HUGE thank you to all my lovely reviewers: shamrock920 (thanks, you're so sweet!), njrd, FluidDegree, buecha, mynee (I'm glad you liked my choices of weapons!), Death By Teacup, Social Control, blade assassin (um, running? Me? Are you kidding? That would require me to get off my arse), WindDancerTN (you're such a sweetheart! Your review made my day – I wuv you!), and unknown (um…heh).

You too can get your own shout-out, all you have to do is review! It's very easy, takes only two seconds, it's free, and you don't get spam or viruses. Pwease? When I post the next chapter, I'll be in the US. Eek.

Cheers,

Rama


	8. Dead End

A/N: I'm back. Please don't have a heart-attack. I moved back to the States right after posting Chap7, and kinda ran out of any spare time in which to post some more. Sorry, sorry! Anyway, I'm spending Xmas with my dad, so I'm back in Ireland without much to do – hence the reason I hope to get the next couple chapters out quickly. I know my updates are normally like Sunday night, but I couldn't wait until then. So one day early – enjoy!

The rest of that day passed relatively quickly – Jack had homework, so they went straight home after school. Riddick got Shinzese take-away, and while they waited for their dinner to arrive, he dragged Jack outside to work on her self-defense.

He was pleased to note that even though both of their movements were slightly restricted due to the various injuries they'd accumulated, Jack hadn't forgotten what he'd taught her earlier. He added a few more moves to her repertoire – evasions and blocks mainly, but when the scent of Shinzese tong-wok sauce drifted past their noses, they unanimously abandoned fighting for food.

During dinner, Riddick got a call notifying him of a job that night. He took down the details, stowed the paper in his back pocket, and hung up without saying goodbye. Jack gave him an inquisitive look, but he shook his head and said nothing.

He didn't want Jack to know about his jobs – or at least know more than she did already. There was no telling about that. He hoped it wasn't much. How would it feel to see a news bulletin about a murder the night before and know that her guardian had been the killer? What would it be like to know that your babysitter was leaving for his job, so somebody would die before he could come home?

Riddick waited until she was in bed and asleep before he took a shot of morphine-12, grabbed his duster, and headed out into the night. Jack or no Jack, he knew what he was good at, and if he could make more money off it, all the better.

When he slipped back into the house a few hours later, it was still dark and quiet. He hoped Jack hadn't woken and found herself alone. But when he checked on her, she was still sleeping – more or less peacefully. He grinned and tip-toed across the floor to her bedside, before folding her arm back to her side and tugging the blanket over her shoulders. He tucked a bare foot back under the covers, and then watched her for a moment.

He had heard it said that people looked like children when they slept, but he found that this was not the case with Jack. She looked less like a girl and more like a woman. A woman who looked an awful lot like Carolyn.

Riddick scrubbed a fist across his eyes and shook his head. He really had been awake too long. He had laid Carolyn to rest, and she did not need to be dug up. Jack was Jack, and Carolyn was…well, _dead_. With a sigh, he snuck out of Jack's room, closed the door, and allowed himself to lean wearily against it for a moment before trudging downstairs.

He turned on the teakettle again and shrugged off his duster. He had gotten a bit of blood splattered on him so he needed to wash all his clothes – no sense in taking any chances. Stripping down to his boxers, he threw all the clothing into the washer-dryer combo and flipped it on. He padded barefoot into the kitchen long enough to drop a teabag into his mug, before returning to the laundry room.

Brandishing a scrub brush in one hand, he doused the boots in detergent and set to work – stopping only to sip his tea. By the time his clothes were dry, his boots were as clean as they ever were. He left them to drip dry in the sink and finally headed for bed. He didn't rest easy.

"_Come on!" Carolyn was dragging him, urging him to go faster. "The ship…" He had to move faster, had to make it to the ship before the creature came swooping down to grab Carolyn_. _But he couldn't move, couldn't do anything more than moan and let Carolyn shoulder him along. His limbs were bound tight, his lips stitched shut. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move a muscle, couldn't tell her to run, to leave him, to save herself._

"_Riddick, why aren't you running?" she shrieked, pulling desperately at his arm. "We have to get to the ship!" She shifted him forward until he was leaning on her shoulders so that she could carry him piggy-back. For a minute, they were pressed together, body to body, then something cold and reptilian slithered between them._

_A screamed, "Riddick!" and she was gone._

Riddick snapped awake and lunged with his shiv, but there was nothing there, nothing but the dark of his room. He glanced at his watch – didn't need the night setting to read the time. 04:16. With a groan, he kicked off his tangled sheets and padded into the office, shiv still absently dangling from his fingers. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he settled into the chair and picked up the stack of papers. No sleep for the wicked.

Jack groaned and felt blindly around for her alarm clock. When she located it, she promptly picked it up and dropped it on the floor. There was a satisfying clunk, and the alarm shut off.

She rolled back over and settled back down. And rolled over again. And again. Finally she threw back her covers and sat up. "Fuck! I just want to _sleep!_" She shouted at the remains of her clock. But she was awake now, so she might as well go to school then. _Damn._

Stumbling out of bed, she looked for a sweatshirt to throw on, couldn't find one, decided to steal one of Riddick's instead. With a mumbled curse, she padded down the hall to Riddick's room. Flicking on the light, she found the bed empty. "Riddick?" she called.

"Office."

Figures he would be up early. The room was dark, but it wasn't like Riddick needed light anyway. She peered into the darkness. "What're you doing?"

"Work."

The desk light flickered on, and she saw him pulling down his goggles. He was wearing a sweatshirt open on a bare chest, and looked like he hadn't slept a wink. "How'd you sleep?"

"Didn't."

So he _had_ been up all night. "Well, okay then. You want breakfast? I can make some mean waffles."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are they toxic?"

"Highly."

He smiled and stood – revealing boxers and bare feet. "Sounds good then."

Riddick stared at his plate. "When you said you were making waffles, I thought you meant that you were actually going to _make_ them."

Jack rolled her eyes and pushed down the lever on the toast-o-matic. "You want to cook? No? Well, then shut up and eat."

He shook his head wordlessly and doused his stack of waffles with syntho-syrup. When Jack's waffles popped up, she flipped them onto her plate and joined him at the table. They munched in silence for a while, until Jack finished her fourth waffle.

"I have '_art class_'," she made the quotation signs in the air, "after school again, so pick up is still at three-thirty."

Riddick nodded and swallowed his mouthful of food. "Why do you call it '_art class_'," he made the signs, "anyway?"

She shrugged and mopped up some syntho-syrup with her next bite. "I dunno, mostly just to keep Imam from knowing that I have detention all the time. I tell him about it every now and then – to keep him from getting too suspicious – but he doesn't need to know that I have it like everyday for the next four years."

"But _art_?"

Jack popped another bite in her mouth. Around it, she said, "Well it kinda is – art class, anyway. I usually finish homework in other classes, and you're not allowed to listen to music or anything, so I sit there and doodle in my notebook for an hour."

He considered this for a moment. "Why not some sport or something?"

"Well then Imam would need to buy me a kit and everything, and he'd want to see matches, you know? If it was drama, he'd want to see me perform. With art, I can show him my drawings, and if he buys me stuff, I can actually use it." She smiled into her milk. "I'm quite good, you know."

Riddick raised an eyebrow. "Oh really. So you do have more talent than just being annoying?"

"Ha ha ha, very funny. Seriously, you wanna see? Let's discover if the cave-man can recognize decent art." She scampered off, leaving Riddick to clear the table. He chanced to see his sweatshirt – which now had grease and syntho-syrup stains on it from carrying the plates, and a little milk slopped near the pocket. He really needed to get one of those cape-things he always saw chefs and mothers wearing in ads to protect their fronts. Called like 'ap-ons' or something.

Jack returned just then, carrying something wrapped in foil and a pad of paper. She set the foil blob on the table and smiled. "Tad says thanks for the extra portion of lunch goo, and I saved you some of his mom's cake." She hopped onto the table next to it and opened the notebook.

Riddick saved the piece of cake from being squashed, and peered over Jack's shoulder at the drawings. They were good. Really good. The page he was looking at was a caricature of what looked like it might formerly have been a teacher – it was flabby and hairy with horn-rimmed glasses and spit flying out of massively rouged lips. The page after was a skeletal man with one foot in a grave, holding hands with the Grim Reaper.

The next picture was a serious sketch, a boy with spiky hair and stud earrings leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. "That's Roz. If I could date anyone in the school, I'd date him."

Riddick frowned. "That just ruined the picture for me…"

She laughed. "Don't worry, he'd never be caught talking to a loser like me. It's funny looking through these, I haven't used this sketchbook in a while. Forgotten what's in here…" She flipped the page, but then hurriedly closed the book. "Well that's it, what'd you think?"

"Hold up." Riddick snagged the notebook from her hands and flipped to the last page. "What was this drawing?" He looked down at the half-finished sketch, full of eraser marks and dark scribbles. It was a large teacher with small eyes and smacking lips stroking a little baby and holding several schoolgirls in one hand.

"Oh…oh, that's nothing…just something I dreamed up…just Mr. Menthiz…" Jack sounded quiet and uncomfortable.

Riddick stared at the picture silently for a moment, face perfectly still. "You have a teacher who's been molesting you?"

Jack flushed and ducked her head. "I-how did you…no…no, nothing like that. He just…I dunno, pats your shoulder, and whispers in your ear and stuff. At least, that's all he's ever done to me. I dunno about the other girls – I don't talk to them."

"Does he ever touch you anywhere else?"

"No, not really. Just rubs your shoulders sometimes."

"What about this whispering? What does he say?"

She wrapped her arms over her elbows. "It's nothing, Riddick. Let it go."

"No. What does he say, Jack?"

"No seriously, Riddick. You can't go to _anyone_, okay? I shouldn't be telling you this."

Riddick looked over at her, hunched on the table, cheeks flaming, and softened. He walked over to the wall and flipped the kitchen light off. In the dark, he took off his goggles and settled on the table next to her. "_Jack_. Tell me."

He felt her shudder slightly, but she was silent for a moment before she hesitantly began to speak. "Just little things. How beautiful he thinks I am. How nice I look in my uniform. How he doesn't care if I leave my top button open and my tie down in his class. How he gave me extra-credit on my test. How the other boys don't appreciate me."

She paused for a moment before continuing. "This has to stay between us, okay? 'Cause I can't take anymore strokes against me – I can't be labeled as the one who tattled, the one who couldn't take it. And anyway, who are you going to tell? Who's going to believe an escaped convict and an orphaned juvenile delinquent? It's not like we have any incriminating evidence anyway. Nothing he has said or done is really that out of the ordinary. He just makes it seem so dirty. Something that should be totally innocent, makes me feel like I need to take a shower in acid."

Riddick was silent. What could he say? He couldn't be there in her classes to protect her, just as he couldn't follow her around the campus to make sure knife-wielding bullies didn't jump her. And she seemed genuinely distressed about him revealing anything.

"All right, Jack. I won't say anything." He felt like he should give her a hug, but wasn't sure if she wanted a man to touch her at the moment. "But I can give you a little advice on how to handle this guy. And I want you to tell me if he does anything else – even the littlest thing, if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I want to know."

She nodded. "Okay."

He sighed. "Since you don't want to accuse him, you just have to keep him from doing anything to being with, right?" At her nod, he continued. "Well bastards like these are usually wimps underneath. They pick the easy ones – quiet, shy, introverted girls. Targets who are unlikely to say anything, or are too shy to stand up for themselves."

Jack nodded at his generalization, so he continued. "You have to stop being one of those victims in his classes. Be loud, be mouthy. Throw spitballs, paper airplanes. I don't care if you get more detention – I'll take care of that. But at the same time turn in your homework on time – don't give him an excuse to get you in his debt. If you could somehow figure out if he does this to other girls, that would be even better. If even one more person can collaborate your story, it will back you up enough to take him to court – when you want to, of course."

Riddick squeezed her shoulders. "I should go to the school board, the principal, the superintendent, the cops. This is not okay. But since you don't want me to, I won't. It's your decision to make. But you better tell me if he does anything more. Okay? Will you promise me that?"

Jack felt up to where his neck was and gave him a hug. "Yeah, Riddick. I promise. And thanks. For listening, and for not saying anything."

He patted her back awkwardly and flipped on the lights again. "On a different topic, maybe we should see about getting you in _actual_ art classes…"

She smiled up at him. "You're all right for a murderer, Richard B. Riddick."

He rolled his eyes. "Gee thanks, Mom. You really made my day there."

After getting Jack signed in at school, Riddick found a comm. booth and pulled out the number book. "M…m…ma…mc…me…mef…mek…mel…men…" He examined the list. "Ah, Menthiz. A Mr. Josh P. Menthiz, 7 Royaz Drive, New Mecca." Riddick smiled. "I wonder if he's expecting visitors?"

"Jesse Staton!"

Riddick sighed impatiently as a cute little blond kid met his mother and they hurried off after signing out. Finally, he stepped to the front of the line. "Kyra Fry." He called and looked towards the detention line. Nothing happened. He didn't bother calling again – Jack would had heard if she was there.

"_Kyra Fry!_" shrieked the teacher with a nasal voice – right in Riddick's ear. He poked his wounded eardrum with his pinky finger, and looked dismally at the empty schoolyard.

"She's not here, Miss!" someone called. "She got up to go to the toilet just before the bell."

It was if someone had stuck his finger in an electric socket. Every nerve was instantly tense. He had to find Jack. Distantly, Riddick realized that he was making some excuse about how she had probably headed home and he'd track her down, but his mind was focused on other things. He forced himself to walk away from the school, but as soon as he was around the corner, he sprinted a block down, and approached the school from the back.

Riddick easily scaled the chain-link fence and vaulted the barbed wire on top. As he landed lightly on the other side, he could hear sounds of a scuffle. These bullies thought they were different, but they were nothing new to Riddick. Smiling grimly, he leapt onto a dumpster, and from there onto a portable classroom. Perfect view of the fight.

Jack was backed into a corner, fists bunched and hair mussed. Four guys surrounded her, but one was bent double, heaving on the pavement. Another had blood trickling from his nose, though still on his feet. Riddick didn't like the fact that one of the standing guys still had a knife. Jack braced a foot on a chink in the brick wall at her back and launched herself at the knife-wielder. No finesse, just a flying lunge. Riddick supposed it was a good move – he'd never taught it to her, so she couldn't really be expected to do it perfectly – and it accomplished her goal.

They both went tumbling, rolling over each other on the ground. Jack had both hands wrapped around the knife, and her opponent was trying to stab her with one hand and beat her senseless with the other. Riddick shook his head. _You focus on one thing in a close quarters fight. Beating senseless or stabbing – pick one! Really, kids these days. No technique._

In all the rolling about, it looked like Jack had gotten an elbow in the guy's stomach, and she was able to roll off him. Scrambling, she pressed a knee on the hand wrapped around the knife. The guy shrieked, and she released the pressure enough to whip the knife from his grip. He flailed at her with his free hand – she hadn't been expecting the hit, and it glanced off her shoulders, knocking her slightly off-balance. But she was on her feet quickly, knife held threateningly out towards her adversaries, who were helping their injured man up.

Riddick began slowly clapping, and everyone's heads jerked up towards him. Jack's face – scratched and dirty – lit up when she saw him. The other guys looked like they were going to scatter, but Riddick raised a hand. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anybody. _Stay_." He smiled.

"Rick!" Jack cried, looking a bit worried. "Don't you think they really _should_ leave?"

Riddick shook his head. "Now why would I think that? They're quite amusing, really. Four guys and a knife for a little girl, and who comes out on top?"

"Who the fuck is this?" One of the boys had finally spoken up.

"My big brother, Rick. You'd better beat it before he beats you!" Jack threatened.

"Oh, but Kyra dear," Riddick said in a singsong voice. "That's not my real name, now. I bet your friends really want to know it – don't you guys?" He pushed back his sweatshirt hood and slid his goggles off his eyes. "Do you know who I am now?"

The boys were silent, then one of the uninjured ones gasped. "Y-you're Richard Riddick!"

They all looked at each other, then grinned. "_Cooooool_!"

"Dude, I so have your action figure-"

"Can I have an autograph?"  
"Hey, I was gonna ask th-"

"I want one t-"

"You are so ama-"

"Where'd you get eyes li-"

"Mom was gonna get me conta-"

"_Quiet._" Riddick's soft command silenced them all. He was a bit put-off – since when had he become the new fad? That had to stop. Next thing they'd have vid games and trading cards of him. "So you all know who I am?"

The boys nodded, grinning. "Richard B. Riddick!" chirped one. "You're like my hero, dude! Totally famous!"

"And do you know why I'm famous?"

Another boy chimed in – really, they were all dumb as rocks. "You like escaped from prisons and stuff!"

"And do you know why I was in those prisons?"

Now they looked a bit confused. "Well you killed some people, right?"

Riddick allowed himself a small smile. "Right. I'm an escaped convict, a murderer – not an action hero."

"But…but, _duuuuude!_"

Riddick sighed. "You see Kyra's neck?" he gestured to Jack, who had been forgotten up until now. She blinked at him, but all the boys did turn and look at her neck. There was still a gauze bandage across it, and all the tussling must have torn the scab, because a bloodstain was slowly spreading on the white cloth.

"That wasn't me. That was a bunch of guys – ten of them, wasn't it Kyra? Yeah, they thought we'd be easy prey. They threatened Kyra here, hurt her neck. I killed every single one of them. Did you hear about it on the news? Over in the Qyte District, two nights ago. There was someone else last night, but I don't know his name – when I get a job, I don't need names. Which means I don't need yours, because you should all know that I don't really mind killing a few more people – even kids."

They boys had stopped looking so excited, now they looked rather scared.

Riddick smiled, and crouched, staring down at them from the roof of the portable. "Even you." He watched their expressions take on a downright panicked cast. "Now, I'd hate to have to hunt each and every one of you down and kill you – too much bother. So you know what you're gonna do? Take a guess."

One of the braver boys stuttered out, "W-we're not gonna tell anyone."

"Right. Who are you not going to tell?"

"No-not gonna tell _anyone_."

"Your parents?"

"N-no…"

"Your teachers?"

"No…"

"The cops?"

"No…no."

"Mercs?"

"N-no one."

"Good. And what about Kyra here? Are you going to leave her alone?"

"Y-yeah."

"Are you going to insult Imam, her guardian?"

"No…"

"Are you going to try and get revenge for her beating you?"

"Noooo…"

"What about for her bringing me into this? Are you gonna try and get her for that?"

"No, we sw-wear."

"Very good, boys. You're actually quite smart when you try. Do you know why you're not going to tell anyone, or trying to mess with Kyra anymore?"

"B-because y-you'll k-k-killll us…"

"Right." Riddick stood, and glared down at them. "Now beat it, and I might not follow you home."

The boys turned tail and disappeared so fast it was almost like magic.

Riddick pushed his goggles back on and rubbed his eyes. "Fucking hurts to be in the sun for so long." He grumbled, leaping easily to the ground.

Jack looked up at him, uncertainly.

He sighed. "Sorry I went all scary on you, Jack. I was just trying to get those guys to leave you alone."

She nodded. "I just…haven't seen you like that…since The Planet. Kinda freaked me for a bit." She held out the knife to him, hilt first.

Riddick shook his head, and smiled. "That's your knife now, Kyra Fry. Keep it for when you need it. You should always have a knife with you."

Looking at the blade a bit uncomfortably, Jack nodded and grasped the hilt herself.

He grinned. "We'll get you a sheath for that beauty. For now, slip it in the side of your boot. That way, you won't stab yourself when you walk." As she did as he instructed, Riddick had a vision of her in five years, in a maximum-security prison. He shouldn't be giving her a blade. If she had a blade, he'd have to teach her how to use it. And if she knew how to use a knife, then there was always the potential that she would make use that knowledge.

But when she stood and looked up at him, he knew there was no going back. It wasn't all his fault either – circumstances had forced her into a position where she needed defense from a blade. And now she had a blade herself. He'd just have to make sure she knew when it was appropriate to use it, and the repercussions of using it when it wasn't. But for now, he just smiled down at her. "C'mon, let's get home."

A/N: So. Worth it? I hope so. Again, sorry for making you wait so long. I know this bit about the teacher was awkward and melodramatic. And the fight thing was a bit far-fetched. But again, I'm trying to throw every parenting crisis existing at Riddick in this week. Mwahahaha. Anyway, I hope you can get over the corniness.

Of course I'd especially like to thank my wonderful reviewers who not only reviewed but stuck around to harass me about updating. I didn't mind, and you can contribute this belated update to them. They are: **shamrock920, Death By Teacup, zilly-pill, FluidDegree, unknown, Jamie, maddy, mynee, blade assassin, TeaCat, TrunksgirlBlaze27, Lady Em-Chan, ElleloveMax85, Killer Queen-formerly Angelit…, SueBe, lil loupe, Gremlin, dagon90, HeresJohnny, Animagious-White-Tiger, FuryanAngel, lamyka, Stiggy, bluecatdevil, EADABUG, shamrock920 **(reminder review… I 3 u), **FuryanAngel **(reminder… luvs!), **Cathar, shadowcat, DiabloCat, chrmd red black rose.**

Thanks everyone! I'm almost to 100 – come on, you can do it! Just 19 more… Love you all!


	9. The Land of Fairytales

A/N: Well. Here we go with the next chapter, which is a happy and sad event at the same time. Yes, it's a bit late due to Christmas and all that, but not like anyone was on here anyway. Better late than never, right? Also, this is the chapter from which I stole the tagline in the summary. So enjoy the awkwardness!

But unfortunately I have some bad news. Not only is this as far as I've written, but I'm heading back to the States Friday morning, so this fic will probably disappear again. Life has a way of stomping in to my happy little world and mucking about in all my things so they're all ruined, and then carrying me off. Joy. So, I'm sorry to say it, but this fic will probably go on hiatus. Of course, I might have a Saturday night and a lot of inspiration, and that might result in more chaps. But who knows if/when that will happen. Therefore, the hiatus is tentative. Keep a weather-eye out, just in case. Cheers lads, I'll miss you. Drop me a few reviews, please…

* * *

Riddick had suggested they have a movie night, so he sent Jack to the vid rental store while he whipped up some dinner. This annoyed him – he felt like the housewife waiting for Husband to bring home the bacon. But he couldn't risk wandering around in a brightly lit store – he needed to stay in the shadows. _Stupid bounty and stupid mercs…_

By the time Jack returned, he was positively fuming. She looked at the mess on the counter and Riddick jabbing an angry finger at the blender, before wincing and walking into the living room.

When she ventured back in, he was peeling a messy concoction out of the Jorge Formin Gill. He looked up when she coughed, and seemed to have relaxed. "It's called a Messy Jane." He explained, handing her a plate.

"What's in it?" she asked warily.

"It's beans, meat, cheese, and barbeque sauce on bread. More than edible – I used to make them when I was a kid."

Jack shrugged. "Cool. Hey I bought some popcorn at the vid store, do you want me to pop it?"

He grinned. "Wouldn't be a movie night without it!"

As Riddick disappeared into the refrigeration unit to get some Bubbly, Jack pulled the tab on the bag of popcorn, and immediately there was a 'ssssszzzzaaaoooww' sound. The bag puffed up and the smell of buttered popcorn filled the kitchen. "Ooh, hot!" she yelped, juggling in gingerly in her fingers. "Hothothothot!"

She managed to pour the hot kernels into a large bowl without seriously burning herself, just as Riddick reappeared, and snagged a handful of popcorn as he walked past. She waited to see him drop the steaming kernels, or yelp in pain, but he did neither. He merely popped a few in his mouth and kept walking.

"_Figures_." She muttered, grabbing both their plates of Messy Janes and following him into the living room.

* * *

As the end credits flickered across the dark wall, Riddick glanced over at Jack. She was curled up in what looked like a murderously uncomfortable position on the other end of the couch, fast asleep. He grinned and flicked off the vid, pulling off his goggles.

He carefully slipped his arms under her slumbering form and stood easily. She really didn't weight much at all – and she was so worried about being fat! With his delicate burden clasped tight to his chest, Riddick stole quietly up the stairs and shouldered open the door to her room.

Laying her gently on the bed, he smoothed her hair gently back from her face, fingers ghosting over the scratches from her fight after school. He wished he hadn't sworn not to hurt those boys, because he suddenly had a strong urge to grind their faces into some convenient concrete. Squashing such potentially satisfying thoughts, he pulled the covers over her slumbering form, and straightened.

Riddick paused when he passed her desk, looking curiously at her sketchbook – which was lying on top of a pile of old tests. He picked it up and flipped through it again, looking at other drawings she hadn't shown him. She really was a talented artist – her cartoons and caricatures were pretty funny, and her serious portraits and still-lifes were like photographs. He glared at the one of Mr. Menthiz, but smirked when he remembered the teacher's address.

There was a new sketch on the page after, and Riddick blinked when he saw it. A knight was leaning nonchalantly against a brick wall, wearing a baggy sweatshirt – of all things – over his armor. He held a laztik loosely in one hand, except the laser weapon was longer that normal, about the size of an actual sword. A maiden with short spiky hair and combat boots under her frilly dress leaned next to him, and a bevy of evil creatures surrounded the pair. Through the eye-slit in the knight's helm, Riddick could see two eyes, colored in the silver of pencil graphite.

He smiled, closed the sketchbook, and left the room.

* * *

Royaz Drive was a street of pleasantly shabby houses, sleeping peacefully in the fractured moonlight. A shadow flickered down the street as a dark figure sauntered along the sidewalk, stopping at number 7. 'Menthiz', read the name on the mailbox.

Riddick smiled as he jimmied the lock on the front door. He had promised Jack that he wouldn't go to the authorities with what she had told him, but he hadn't promised anything else. After carefully checking the street for any signs of discovery, the convict slipped inside the house. Oh he was going to _enjoy_ this…

* * *

Still wrapped up in the afterglow of satisfaction – Mr. Menthiz wouldn't be bothering Jack anymore – Riddick slipped back into the house. It would have been more to his style to kill the man, but he worried that Jack might suspect, and didn't want to trouble her.

Speaking of Jack, this was the second time in as many nights that he had slipped out while she was asleep – really, he was pushing his luck. What would she do if she woke and he wasn't there? He hoped he'd never find out.

He had just hung up his duster, when there was a noise upstairs. Immediately he froze, listening intently.

Suddenly, a scream.

"Riddick!"

He was up the stairs without realizing it, focused only on getting to Jack. A shiv was in his hand, and he thrust her door open, ready to attack whatever was threatening her.

But Jack's room was empty, save the girl herself, who was sitting upright in bed, wide-eyed. The sheets were twisted around her thin frame, and she was drawing great shuddering breaths. "Riddick…" she called again.

"What is it, Jack? What's wrong? Is there someone here?" His eyes darted around the room – the window was closed, her closet wasn't large enough to hide a man, there was no space under the bed, and no one behind the door.

"No…n-no…I just…" she took another shuddering breath, and to his horror, began to cry.

Startled, he blinked, then sheathed his shiv and sat hesitantly on the edge of her bed. "Jack? You alright?" She shook her head and covered her face with her hands, and Riddick had a horrible realization. He didn't know what to do.

Cautiously, he touched her shivering back – just barely brushing the tips of his fingers across her spine. Suddenly, she whirled and threw herself into his lap, latching her arms around his middle and shoving her face into his chest. Startled, he blinked down at her, trying not to wince as she jostled his stitches.

Feeling like he was dealing with a wild animal and not a teenage girl, Riddick awkwardly petted her hair. "Jack? Can you tell me what's wrong? You hurt?"

After a moment, she pulled her head back just enough that she could look up at him. "No, I'm…okay. I just had a…a dream."

"A nightmare?"

She nodded, and buried her head in the crook between his shoulder and arm. "About The Planet." She mumbled into his chest.

Riddick grimaced, and rubbed her shoulders gently. He didn't say anything – because there was nothing to say. They had survived, yes, but so many others had not. They had escaped, but the horrors lived on in their memories. They were safe, but not from dreams.

Jack quieted quickly, and tugged away from Riddick, wiping ineffectually at her eyes. "You probably think I'm a big baby…" she mumbled.

He smiled softly, and batted her hands aside. "You're not a baby, Jack." He wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "You're about the farthest thing from a baby."

She sent him a watery smile, and sniffed. "I bet you don't have bad dreams."

Riddick restrained a derisive snort. "Jack, I have bad dreams even when I'm not asleep."

Jack looked startled. "Really?"

"Really."

"Do…do you dream about your kills?"

"Yeah. I guess that's the price you pay for doing what I do, for not feeling guilty during daylight hours." He fell silent, staring over her head and out the window.

"Riddick?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it…hard?"

"Is what?"

"Killing."

For a moment, he didn't say anything. "No. It's easy. Sometimes you get a guy who knows what he's doing and you have a bit of a fight, but it's never hard. Humans are just bone and muscle in a thin bag of skin. No natural defense."

"But is it hard to make yourself kill?"

Again Riddick was silent, debating how much to confess. "No. Jack…I'm not this great and noble guy you think I am. I'm a killer, I kill. It's what I'm good at, it's what I do. I don't…I don't have to _make_ myself. I don't feel bad afterwards. I dream, but I rarely regret the kill."

"What kills do you regret?"

He sighed. "A few ones I shouldn't have done. Innocent people who saw too much, or crossed the wrong guys, or got in the way. Policemen, bystanders, judges, you know. Good people. Some I couldn't do anything about. Hostages, children, Carolyn."

Jack nodded against his chest and fell silent. Riddick continued to softly rub her back in lazy circles, comforting himself as much as his young charge.

"Riddick?"

"Yeah?"

"Will…will you stay with me for a while? Just until I fall asleep?"

A soft smile broke out on the face of the galaxy's most notorious killer. "Scoot over." She obliged, and he kicked off his boots, before swinging his legs up and settling back against the pillow. Jack sighed contentedly and settled her head on Riddick's chest. Soon their easy breathing was the only noise in the room.

After a while, Jack broke the silence. "Riddick, why were you wearing your boots? Did you go somewhere tonight?"

Riddick didn't reply.

"Riddick?"

When there was still no response, Jack raised her head, and looked up at her human pillow. Riddick's silver eyes were closed, and his head lolled awkwardly to the side. His mouth was slightly open, and through it she could hear his steady breathing.

With a grin, Jack tugged her blanket over them both, then nestled back into Riddick's arms. A few minutes later, she drifted off as well, and for once, neither of them dreamed.

* * *

Riddick rose early, and showered, feeling strangely refreshed, after only a few hours of sleep. Deciding to surprise Jack, he dug out a cookbook he had noticed in the pantry. "Omelets… Orange-Cranberry Muffins… P… Here we go."

By the time he heard Jack stumbling about upstairs, he had a plate stacked high with hot pancakes – and the trash compactor was full of burnt or broken mistakes.

Feeling a bit cold, he jogged upstairs to grab a sweatshirt. On the way back down, he tapped on the bathroom door. "I made a surprise for breakfast, but if you don't hurry up, it'll all be gone…"

"…Right." Jack called back, sounding rather grumpy.

Puzzled, Riddick leaned his head against the door. "Jack? You all right?"

"I'm fucking fine."

"You don't sound fine." Riddick shot back, but then the urgent message his brain had been attempting to tell him finally broke through. He inhaled deeply. The coppery tang of fresh blood invaded his nostrils. "Jack!" he twisted the doorknob, only to find it locked.

"What!" she yelled back. "Piss off, Riddick."

"Jack, let me in." he commanded, testing the door's strength.

"No."

"Jack you're bleeding! Open up!"

There was silence for a moment. "I'm fine, Riddick. The scab on my neck just opened when I was sleeping."

"I'm not stupid, Jack. Open this door, or I swear…"

"You'll what?"

"I'll break it down and bust your ass. There's too much blood for it to be just an open scab."

"I'm fine, Riddick! Get that through your thick skull! I'll be out in a second. Besides, how do you know how much I'm bleeding?"

"I can smell it. You're making me suspicious now! …I'm not mad, Jack. I just want to make sure you're okay."

The girl was silent for a time, and Riddick frowned. "Jack?"

"What!"

"Just checking that you didn't sneak out the window. Will you just open the door?"

"Fuck's sake, Riddick gimme three seconds!"

"Three…"

"Jesus, Riddick you are a dick!"

"Two… not helping yourself…"

"Piss off!"

"One… I'm gonna break this door down…"

Jack opened the door and glared at him.

"Zero."

She turned around in a circle. "There. You can see that I haven't slit my wrists or cut off a foot or something. Can I go now?"

Riddick blinked. "Where'd all that blood go then? Where'd it come from?"

Jack's glare could have fried eggs. "It's that time of the month." She grated out from between gritted teeth.

Riddick blinked again. "What?"

"It's that time of the month."

"Huh?"

"I'M ON MY _PERIOD_, OKAY?"

It took a few seconds for him to process that, and when he did, Jack was able to witness the closest that Richard B. Riddick had ever gotten to blushing. "Oh. Yeah, I guess that would explain it."

Jack glared. "There, are you satisfied?"

"Uh…yeah."

"Good." She flounced past him with as much dignity as she could muster.

Riddick stared after her, scratching his baldpate absently. "What just happened here?" he wondered.

* * *

A/N: Yay! Anuzzah chaptah dun! Are hew sadeh naow? (um, I'll stop talking like that that now…) I'm terribly sorry, but c'est la vie. Anyway, reviewer appreciation time!

**Animagious-White-Tiger** (yes, adventures in OOCland. But hopefully not too much, I'm trying to keep him as faithful as possible. I sometimes wonder if this really happened to Riddick if he would not just say "fuck it" and leave. Hmmm… and don't delete me, I'm still here! Really!), **TrunksgirlBlaze27**, **bima**, **shamrock920** (I wuv you incredibly, and it was nice to hear from you again!), **lamyka** (yeah it was more character/plot work than action, but I am trying to balance all aspects, so after the club scenes and the fight, I needed to put in something different), **Saismaat** (I'm glad you enjoyed my names, I seriously have to think about each of them to make them suitably futuristic), **CiaraBerrie, Social control, Poison kitten, S, unknown** (sorry there was such a big break there, but I did explain…), **Aniah, Montgomery Burms 13** (ooooh, a big one! Yes, I realize now that 10 assailants was probably a bit much, but look at what he did on The Planet and against the Necromongers! If he can battle a fscking alien thingie, plus like a zillion flunkies with laser guns, I didn't want to give him an easy out. Admittedly, he did have Kyra/Jack with him, but really… I also tried to write it in a way that wasn't so far-fetched… Now, the punks at school. Yes, Riddick fscked up there. He won't do it again – even though he doesn't know it yet… haha), **FuryanAngel, demondogs **(I actually heard it on Barney…), **Demondogs** again (two reviews, yay!), **Madelynn Rae**, and **SueBe** (oooooh you've given me ideas…).

Ok, people. Are you mocking me? 99 reviews… Sneaky sneaky. Haha, at least we can break 100 in this chap. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers who got me this far! I'm glad you're all enjoying it!


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